


The Measure of a Were

by wanderingaddict



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Sex, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Peter Hale, Double Penetration, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Frottage, Hale Whores, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Milk of Human Kindness AU, Oral Sex, Orgy, Peter is a side thing not involved with the others tho, Rimming, Scisaac - Freeform, Triple Penetration, Werewolves are livestock, mention of Sheriff Stilinski/Derek Hale, minor sciles, sterek, vague knotting stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24855589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingaddict/pseuds/wanderingaddict
Summary: Stiles is tired of trying to find a stud for Derek. Scott does have a werewolf of his own - Isaac. Could it be that they can figure something out that works for all of them? A bit of a light-hearted entry to Always_Bottom_Derek's "Milk of Human Kindness" where werewolves are kept as dairy-weres and their 'milk' has beneficial properties.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Peter Hale/Hellhound
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	1. The Nature of a Were

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Always_Bottom_Derek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Always_Bottom_Derek/gifts).



> AlwaysBottomDerek writes amazing fic about Derek being thotty af. "Milk of Human Kindness" is a bit darker than some of the others, but I just can't help but laugh at all the twists all these straight men go through to justify drinking werewolf semen. At this point, Derek's also fucked everyone in town BUT Scott and Isaac so I thought I'd fill that void. Rock on, ABD! Keep him bottoming!

Four months ago, Scott McCall wouldn’t have ever believed that his friend Stiles would get a were. For all his interest in the supernatural, the guy could probably risk doing serious harm to a pet rock. Weres were _not_ a beginner pet. 

He’d known that for years, seen it first-hand even, working as a vet-tech with Dr. Deaton. For being among the most marketed of the supernatural creatures, no one talked about their cunning, their intelligence, or how quickly they learned. If Stiles had said something to him first, he’d have probably tried to talk him out of it. Weres were hard work. Stiles? Stiles did not like hard work.

Then again, two months ago? He wouldn’t have ever thought he’d be the next one to own a were. Weres deserved every bit of the fear, the awe that their reputation had garnered. He’d once heard Dr. Deaton say that - of all the supernaturals - weres were the hardest because they actually understood what humans thought. Having lived with his own were for weeks now, he could only agree: too willful, too knowing, and full of personality to boot. Hell, half the time he wasn’t sure if he actually owned a were so much as one had just happened to move in with him. Sure, it had been badly injured when he’d found it on the side of the road, half-dead even with werewolf regeneration, but that hadn’t done a thing to dent its intractable defiance.

Pulling up to his best friend’s house, Scott Mccall got out of the car, but not before admonishing his passenger. 

“Okay, now I want you to remember: Stiles is my friend.” His voice was firm. Polite, but firm. “Be. Nice.”

The werewolf seated beside him rolled his eyes, just how much of a pain for him that would be written on his face. Scott elbowed him, knowing full-well that if he didn’t get acknowledgement now then the stray were would later pretend that he’d never heard him. “Look at me, Isaac.” 

Scowling, Isaac’s gaze swung about, the werewolf managing to convey every ounce of what he thought of Stilinski without needing to say a word. The two hadn’t gotten along since the day he and Scott had found Isaac on the side of the road - with Scott insisting they load him into the back of Stiles’s jeep right then and there instead of waiting for Supernatural Control. Stiles had resisted, of course, not wanting to have to clean blood out of the back or risk an unchecked were attacking them, but even his usual callousness faded at his friend’s disappointed stare. 

Isaac, however, had been much more difficult. Surly, defiant - even when covered in blood and looking like he’d been hit by a car - the lanky werewolf had both all the weight of a bundle of loose twigs and the ferocity of housecat escaping bathtime. It was only after he’d clawed up his rescuers and been bodily hefted into the car that the stray had settled into a sullen, half-conscious, watchful silence. 

Stiles’s nervous chatter and faintness at the sight of blood had done little to endear the teen to Isaac, in the moment, and it was something that pale, dishwater blond had yet to let go of. Not that Isaac’s cool distance and occasionally intentional intimidation of his master’s nerdy, motormouth companion had done anything to bridge the gap. On more than one occasion, Stiles had suggested - always within earshot of Isaac - that they take him back to the spot Scott had found him and “release him back into the wild.” For some reason, his sense of humor didn’t have much of a warming effect. 

Although their mutual animosity had settled - some - since those first few days, it had yet to disappear completely. Whether it was Stiles’ weird insecurity about the werewolf’s chiseled-marble looks or it was Isaac’s possessiveness of his master’s time, or some mix of jealousy in both man and were, Scott couldn’t tell. He certainly had no clue what to do about it. Every time he thought he’d found something they could all do together, the two of them just ended up taking swipes at one another. Sometimes physically, with Isaac.

Part of him was honestly still surprised he’d even managed to talk the two of them into trying out Isaac as a stud for Derek today. Usually they were far more apt to cross their arms and sulk the moment each was in the other’s presence. 

From the current expression on Isaac’s face, his were was getting ideas about something. He held up a finger in warning. “I mean it.” 

The stray, half a head taller than his master, gave him a hang-dog look. Scott hesitated, part of him all-too-aware of his… alternative motivation… in making sure this went well. He knew he shouldn’t be so interested as he was, but, fuck… his stray was one good-looking were, and ever since Stiles had floated the idea of maybe using Isaac as Derek’s stud… Scott had found himself quite preoccupied with thoughts of the two together. Nothing he could really give voice to, at least, not without sounding like one of those Argent creeps that Alison’s father always hung around with, but he couldn’t deny having thought about it. A lot. 

There was an animal magnetism to the weres. Subtle, at first, though the longer Scott was around them, the more he noticed its draw. It lay in the easy way Derek moved his body, confident, proud. It lurked in Isaac’s breath on the back of his neck when they were alone. It was subtle.

It was insidious. 

The tough part of it all was that Isaac somehow _knew_ , and was currently milking every drop of it for all he could get. Just getting him dressed this morning had required a lot of coaxing ‘favors’ that had them leaving the house an hour later than he’d intended. While what he’d had to do today wasn’t so different from what he’d had to do any other day since he’d first adopted the stray, there was something in Isaac’s half-cocked smirk that had started setting Scott’s pulse to racing. 

Pretending not to notice it had worked for a bit at first, but then Isaac had started with… the touching. He’d known, of course, intellectually, that it would happen. Werewolves bonded through skin-to-skin contact. 

That hadn’t prepared him for reality. 

Scott, with his soft heart a mile wide even before he had taken to supernatural husbandry, was very aware of how important that kind of contact was for healthy pack dynamics. He’d only read about a thousand how-to articles and were-wiki pages all stressing the importance of early, physical bonds with a were. He understood the science, understood the psychology behind reassuring a supernatural companion with the body instead of just spoken words. Right from the start of finding Isaac - broken on the roadside - he had been letting the were crawl into bed at night, letting him pull close during the day. Let him be intimate, let him treat him like a pack member whenever he needed.

However he needed it. 

Of course, any rule that wasn’t strictly enforced seemed a quick target for Isaac to bend - if not outright break. A stricter master would correct the were that stepped in to rub its nose along his neck, daring to read its master’s arousal and respond in-kind as though it and humans were on the same level. 

Scott was not a strict master. And it showed. 

The lack of any fear in Isaac’s big blue eyes when Scott turned back to him made it clear he knew that his master was not one of those other humans. The were pouted - just slightly, just enough to leave it at the hint of a suggestion, nothing more. Still, it was enough to make it clear what he wanted.

Scott glanced around, eyes going up the empty street before he leaned upwards for a quick peck. He wasn’t above giving his stray’s manhood a quick tug, leaning in conspiratorially. “Save this for Derek, though, okay? Whole reason I’m bringing you over here.”

A bit full of himself, Isaac followed Scott to the house, just a hint of swagger in his stride. Scott tapped on the door, which swung open after the sound of footsteps on stairs.

“Scott!” Stiles exclaimed, motioning them in, shuffling awkwardly when Isaac stepped in close, looming over him while Scott’s back was turned. Stiles avoided eye contact. “Isaac.” 

The stray relented, just in time for Scott to turn from taking off his coat. Stiles clapped his hands, jumping over the scattered shoes in the entry. “You guys finally got here!” 

“Yeah,” Scott supplied, hesitating, as he followed. “We ah, had some trouble getting out of the house.” 

He stared hard at Isaac as he spoke. His were pretended not to see it. 

“Hey, no worries man. It actually gave me time to get Derek all set up.” Stiles led the way upstairs, to the huge room he had to himself. “I was trying to look stuff up about werewolf breeding online the other day - boy you do not want to just google that.” He feigned a shudder. Scott laughed, nodding as though he hadn’t ever googled that phrase himself. 

There really was a lot of weird, not-so-pleasant stuff out there, though. He couldn’t help but grimace in distaste. 

Then again, walking into his friend’s room to see Derek Hale seated on his bed, completely nude, highlighted some of the high points of werewolf breeding. His near-model looks, incredible physique, paired with a distant, impassive stare was enough to set anyone aback. How he had been sent to the dregs for Stiles to buy with some birthday money, Scott still couldn’t grasp. 

“Got him prepped and ready. He’s really been feeling it today,” Stilinski said, chatting as he tossed dirty clothes out of the way. Reaching his were, he attempted to lift one thigh, only to have Derek simply stare at him. Stiles, exasperated, rapped a knuckle against the muscular werewolf’s broad chest. “Derek? Do you mind?” 

An unreadable look on his face, Derek’s hazel eyes shifted from Stiles to Scott, before he let his owner push his legs up back far enough to show the base of the slick vibrator Stiles had worked up his ass. “See?” Stiles chirped, showing off his hard work. “Breeding hole a-go!” 

Forced humor. Scott had known him long enough to tell when he was a little on-edge. “Not what they tell you before getting a were, right?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Stiles muttered, dropping Derek’s leg to stand. He snapped his fingers at the tall, lanky were that had made an admirable effort to slink down in Scott’s shadow. “Hey, Roadkill! Get over here and lube up, I’m tired of having to do this manually.”

As usual, his wry, often dark banter had the opposite effect of his intent. “Woah!” he shrieked, snatching his hand back from the taloned claws that had nearly taken a finger. He clutched his hand to his breast, dismayed, before he recovered his usual aplomb. “Isaac’s kinda touchy isn’t he?” he asked, rhetorically. The nervous teen snatched up an aromatic that had been sitting on his desk, waving it about. “Come on dude, this is supposed to drive you weres crazy!” 

The picture on the side of the strangely-scented bottle was of a comically busty wolf-girl making heart-shaped eyes at the viewer. _Bitch’N’Heat_ was splayed across the top. Somehow it didn’t seem the most trustworthy aphrodisiac. 

“You’re moving too fast, man!” Scott laughed, stepping in to stop his friend from continuing to wave it under Isaac’s nose. His voice took on a syrupy note. “Don’t you know? There’s always gotta be a little bit of _romance_.” 

Stiles crossed his arms. “Pshh, romance. He’s not a girl.” 

“And you’re so good with girls!” Scott exclaimed, his grin wry.

“Oh, like you’re so much better!”

“I at least was good with _one_ ,” McCall drawled, pulling the t-shirt over Isaac’s head. His stray didn’t have the pecs that Derek did - how could anyone, without Hale blood? - but he was no slouch, either. He had healed up well after the accident, with good food finally filling out his thin frame. The back of Scott’s fingers brushed over his werewolf’s pale abs, but Isaac didn’t move. His blue eyes were fixated on his master, darkening at the potential for more. 

Shaking his thoughts free, Scott continued. “Everyone likes to be wooed once in a while.” Loose-limbed, at ease, he strode over to the huge, Hale were on the bed. “Isaac,” he murmured, cajoling. “Look at this, we have this big werewolf all set up to be bred by you!” 

His hands groped wereflesh, jiggling parts of Derek’s chest and ass in demonstration. More than having an effect on Isaac, though, it seemed to have an effect on Scott. This close, it was hard not to be appreciative of the older werewolf’s size, of how sturdy he felt when touched. “Shit, check out this bod!” he exclaimed, his hands going from the older werewolf’s full ass, his heavy pecs, to run down the were’s thighs. Derek Hale’s ripped quads were only part of the teen’s fascination. What lay between them was equally impressive, even if it wasn’t meant for breeding. 

“God he has a big cock- er, big teat,” he muttered, correcting himself at the last minute. The werewolf lingo was a bit foreign to him.

Unfortunately, the rising heat between Scott and Derek only had a cooling effect on McCall’s were - especially once the teen started playing with the bigger werewolf’s weighty, swiftly-hardening shaft. Isaac slumped backwards against the wall, mouth terse. Not that Scott noticed. Standing so close to Derek, he was caught in the heat that the older were exuded - from his body, in his gaze. Those hazel eyes, half-lidded - his lips, parting - his legs, spreading encouragingly - were as some ancient, primal lure. Whatever shyness Scott’d had about milking him before had evaporated. He’d learned a thing or two about milking weres in the last few months, hands-on experiences, so to speak. Derek’s sharp, light pants had him putting it to full use here, now.

Distracted, the two of them stayed fixated on Scott’s stroking until his own were’s loud, exasperated sigh of frustration cut through the room, followed by Isaac thumping the back of his head against the drywall. 

Silence reigned, for a moment. Stiles, of course, was the first to break it. 

“Well that was just beautiful. Just absolute romance. I can see why you have so many girls chasing after you.”

Heat crept up Scott’s neck as he let go, standing. “Shut up,”

“No, I mean it! I mean, Derek was clearly moved by it!” Stiles gestured at the werewolf’s manhood, which stood at emphatic attention. “It’s just that, you know, we’re supposed to be getting _Isaac_ in the mood, since it’s his dick that actually matters!”

“It’s not that big a deal! Just let them get to know each other first.” He went over to his neglected were, his voice turning soft as he stroked his stray’s pale arms, his white chest. “Isaac, this is Derek Hale. He’s the were I told you about, the one that really needs you to breed him.” 

“You told him about Derek?” Stiles asked, face scrunched up. 

“Yeah? What’s wrong with that?”

“Dude, I-,” he began, raising his hands, but he cut himself off. After a breath, he looked to his friend, gesturing emphatically with his hands. “It’s weird enough sometimes that you’re putting clothes on him. Now you’re just having casual conversation with him?”

Scott had no idea where this was coming from. “What’s so weird about that? Lots of people talk to their supernaturals.” 

“Yeah but they don’t do that - that weird thing you do!” 

Brow furrowed, Scott shot Isaac a quizzical look. Isaac, for his part, looked from Stiles to Scott, frowned, and shrugged. 

It only seemed to exacerbate Stilinksi. “That! That right there!” he shouted, pointing wildly at the two of them.

“What!” 

“That - that - where you treat them like - treat them like whatever!” 

Scott hesitated, still not certain what treating them nicely had to do with anything. “They’re pretty smart, Stiles. I think they get what’s going on if you give them a chance.”

Stiles stared at his friend, his innocent friend, his guileless, naive, hopelessly wonderful - sometimes - friend. Who, of course, would probably never get what he was talking about or why it bothered him so much to see weres looking, acting, treated like they were hu- … 

He quickly banished that thought. He sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just weird.” He rubbed his hands over his face, taking a seat in his computer chair. “It’s like having a whole extra person just living in your house with you.”

“A freakin’ horny one,” Scott muttered. He thought it was under his breath, but apparently Stiles heard it too. 

“Horny as hell! I - I - dude, I just don’t know what to do. I was really hoping that this thing with Isaac would work today. I don’t want Derek to…” 

He trailed off, avoiding Scott’s gaze. 

“You’re actually worried about him, aren’t you?”

Stiles hesitated, his brown eyes meeting Scott’s for a moment before he nodded. “Well… yeah…” he asserted, as if it should go without say. “The whole reason I got him in the first place to get him out of there.” 

“You know, for all that you always act like an asshole it’s kinda cool to see you care. A little.”

Rolling his eyes, more at himself than anything else, Stiles let out a sigh of defeat. “Being friends with a bleeding heart Good Guy like you will do that to you.” 

McCall huffed, but it was enough to break the tension, get a commiserating flash of a smile from his friend. Stiles, suddenly recalling their company, gestured at the two werewolves that were very pointedly ignoring each other. “Doesn’t look like they’re at all interested.” 

Scott shook his head. “I don’t get it, man. Derek’s prime Hale bloodline. Isaac’s - well,” he frowned. “Who knows what he is. But he’s hot! He’s gotta be good stock, right? He healed up quickly, he’s smart.” Noticing the warmth in his own voice, something clicked in his head. He shot his friend a worried glance. “You don’t... think they’re too hung up on us, do you?”

“No. What? Nooo.” Stiles scoffed, frowning and shaking his head. “I mean come on. No. Don’t be ridiculous.” The very notion raised something… unsettling… in his gut. 

Scott let it drop, too, equally nervous about the idea’s implications. They sat in silence, for a moment, before McCall cursed. “Well fuck. What do people usually do when they’re trying to get someone else in the mood?”

Stiles pursed his lips in thought. “Put on a porno?” he proffered, turning slightly in his chair. 

“Dude, what the fuck.” 

“Hey! It works in the movies!” he said defensively, holding up his hands. Then he waggled his eyebrows. “‘Sides, it’s not like you and I haven’t checked out a couple videos before...” 

Cheeks just a little bit tinged with red, Scott ignored that last part. That had been more than a few years ago. “Alright. But, like, human porn, or werewolf? Maybe it would get them to understand what we want them to do…” he wondered, before he trailed off.

Just as well. His thoughts were interrupted by a spark of inspiration striking his friend. Stiles tapped his thigh.

“Hey, I have an idea.” Sitting up, he rolled straight to his computer, closing out a couple open programs to pull up the CCTV access from the station. How he had access to it, Scott didn’t know, but it probably had everything to do with him being the nosy son of a well-meaning sheriff. 

“Police footage?” he asked, one eye squinting. 

Stiles nodded, but continued pulling up feed, trying to find the right spot. “Yeah, you gotta check this out. You know that Hale wolf my dad got for the precinct a couple months ago?”

“The big nasty fucker that sorta looks like Derek?” 

Brief though their meeting had been, Scott did not have a high opinion of him. Stiles kept nodding, finally getting the section of video he was looking for. “Yeah, that guy. I think he might actually have the same bitch thing that Derek has.”

“What. No way.” The size and strength of that beast had Alpha written all over him, despite the cutesy ‘Hi, I’m Peter!’ nametag someone at the station had put on his k-9 enclosure. Still, Scott was willing to grab the second, older desk chair, pretty much reserved for him, and sit down. 

“Yeah way! Look!” Pointing emphatically, Stiles tapped the spacebar to play. “I saw this thing in the archival footage a couple days ago. Look at this.”

The camera was the one set to the station’s werewolf enclosure. Bright-lit, with a padded bench, and a mattress in one corner. Claw marks covered everything. Peter was the only occupant, pacing back and forth: every inch the caged animal he resembled. 

Naked. Powerful. A breeding cock as thick and dangerous as Derek’s, though there was a cruelty to the elder werewolf’s stance that left no uncertainty as to what he could do with his fangs, his claws. Would do, more like, given the history of attacks even on the station’s staff. The thing was a bastard, through and through. There was no way Scott could believe that there was an ounce of bitch in his body. 

Something appeared on the edge of the camera, looming out of the darkness in the hallway outside. Something almost human, but wreathed in smoke, in fire. 

At first he thought it was something with his eyes. “What the shit is that??” he exclaimed, when the thing failed to go away. “Is that another werewolf?”

“No, no. Maybe?” Stiles pursed his lips in thought, but shook his head. “All that fire and shit though? I don’t think so.” 

Scott stared. “Did anyone say anything?” 

“About some creepy new supernatural creature showing up out of the blue to do something fucking weird?” Stiles asked, turning away from the screen to stare directly at the friend who had lived in the same strange, mysterious town nearly his whole life. “No. This is Beacon Hills, dude.” 

A bit sheepish, Scott conceded the point. Stiles spun back to the monitor, jerking his chin towards the two supernatural creatures. “Anyways, whatever the fuck this thing is isn’t important. Watch.” 

It strode in the room, straight through the bars of the cell as if they weren’t even there. Peter crouched, razor-sharp claws on full display, his face a twisted snarl. He looked absolutely furious. Behind them, Derek sat up, eyes glued to the screen.

“They look like they’re gonna kill each other right?” Stiles asked, one foot tapping in excitement.

To Scott it looked like the big Hale alpha was actually exhibiting a confused mix of snarled challenges and some sort of male presenting, but he held his tongue. The nuance of animal language he’d come to learn as a veterinary technician was often too hard to explain. Besides, the bigger part of him still couldn’t believe a creature as thoroughly nasty as Peter Hale could have an ounce of breeder-bitch material in him, whatever Stiles had found. 

He could certainly agree that at least part of the werewolf wanted to kill the intruder. Peter lunged at the creature, all fang and claw, but the red-skinned, burning thing just caught him by the throat and slammed him into the wall. That’s when Scott saw.

Peter was rock-hard. That vicious rod, too thick, too long, too _hard_ , was standing with such upright rigidity that it slapped against his own stomach each time he struggled against the creature’s fist. His claws drew long, red streaks along the thing’s arm, but it just stared. Impassive, unrelenting. 

Until one hand rose to grip the Hale alpha’s cock and force his foreskin all the way back. Peter’s face, already purple, turned apoplectic with rage. He fought with both hands, clawing desperately at the hand pinning him while the other continued to stroke. Stroke hard.

Scott’s mouth had fallen open. “No way,” he whispered, in awe as the fiery, flaming monster finally had enough of Peter’s struggling and threw the werewolf to the side. The station’s alpha stumbled, caught himself, spinning about - fangs bared once more for the thing’s next attack. 

An attack that didn’t come. The creature, bare-skinned, Scott realized, through the smoke that rolled off its body, just stood there. Watching. Then its hands disappeared into the darkness between its legs. 

Across the room, Peter’s whole body stilled - then the werewolf roared, a furious display belied by his retreat… and still-throbbing erection.

The smoking, flaming man-thing turned to face the were fully, revealing what it had pulled out of its dark, shrouded body. Scott gasped aloud at the sight of the creature’s enormous, inhuman rod. Even in the high-angled security camera footage he could tell it was slick, glistening, and of a size no human man could take without suffering. It stalked across the room, as methodical, as emotionless as it had been when it entered, the only difference being its arm-length cock now led the way. 

With all the smoke, it was hard to tell exactly how big the creature was. It was clear that something man-like lurked in the middle, something with thick arms, a strong chest. While he couldn’t tell if it was bigger than Hale, it was easily the stronger of the two supernaturals. 

Something passed between the two; something that had Peter shift his stance as the thing got closer, something that had the alpha standing straight up to his full height. Jaw clenched, fangs out, dick hard. 

Unyielding, even when the fiend, with its red-cracked skin, stomped up to him, its enormous rod pushing up against the Hale were’s, leaving a gooey trail of slime across his balls, along his shaft. Dripping down his stomach. 

Peter glanced down. Flashing fang, he turned around, his big, white buttocks framing either side of the demon’s cock. It seemed to be the sign the creature was waiting for, since it slammed him facedown on the bench. 

One hand pinned Peter to the padded bench by his neck. The other went to caress the naked werewolf’s big, muscular butt, pressing hard enough on one meaty cheek to bare the alpha’s tight-clenched hole. Peter snarled again, his claws tearing into the cushion, snapping back with enough force that the flaming thing actually rocked backwards - but then it just slammed him down once more, this time grinding the length of its hard, drooling cock along the cleft between his cheeks. The motion pulled whatever passed for foreskin on the creature’s cock back far enough to reveal an orangish, nearly glowing head. 

Strangely, the Hale were stilled at the full unsheathing of the beast’s shaft, his hips lifting ever so slightly in anticipation. Although his thighs - thick like Derek’s - trembled as the hellspawn dragged itself down to press that orange tip to his hole, Peter Hale made no move beyond tightening his grip on the bench. That’s when Scott made the realization.

His eyes went wide. “Holy shit. He’s gonna fuck him, isn’t he?” 

Beside him, practically vibrating, Stiles cackled and nodded enthusiastically. Isaac, suddenly interested as well, pressed in on the other side of him. All four of them, human and were alike, watched in awe as black, shrouded creature penetrated Peter like the thrust of a spear: resistance at first, and then a long, brutal slide in. Though there was no sound, they could all tell the alpha was howling. His white-knuckle grip on the bench, the teeth buried in a cushion, more than illustrated what hell he must be going through to fit that monster inside him.

Yet his steely erection never faltered. It remained ram-rod straight, still the picture of a bitch-breaker cock to be used for breeding purposes only. Derek crawled forward, on his knees beside his owner, to get a better view of the alpha - his uncle - getting dominated by the fiendish thing. Stiles glanced at him, scratched his nape absent-mindedly, but kept his focus on the feed. Even having seen it before, he was still impressed at the thing’s mastery - its control - as its powerful, blackened fingers gripped Hale’s waist and forced the werewolf’s fat, muscular ass back along its length. 

It started slow, using the same methodical pace that it had shown earlier. If not for the man-shape beneath the smoke, one would have thought it a machine, the way it pistoned its hips into the alpha wolf. Each time it sawed a little deeper, until finally its swinging balls were clapping at Peter’s with every thrust. That seemed to draw a reaction from the older Hale, the were at last releasing one clawed hand from its grip on the bench to snake it under his belly, where it grasped his jutting cock. 

Watching the powerful alpha stroke himself, back bowed, his dick as stiff as the one that tore through his guts, a palpable sense of awe fell over them. For some of them, those who had suffered at the hands of an alpha - this one, or others - this was vindication. For others, there was disbelief in the size, the ability, the sight of what - at least, on the surface - looked like a man able to take pleasure in a demon taking what it wanted from his hole.

On either side of them, their weres pressed closer; their arousal evident, both in the growing bulge in Isaac’s loose shorts and in the way Derek wet his lips, the way he placed his arm along the inside of Stiles’s thigh. Used to Derek’s touch, the high school student barely registered it. 

Still getting used to were intimacy, Isaac’s breath on his neck jolted Scott back into his body. Remembering himself, McCall shifted to adjust certain parts that had started responding to the video. He wet his lips, trying to make his voice sound steady. “How long does this go on for?” he asked, eventually.

“Like four hours man!” Stiles skipped ahead, showing different sections of feed. Peter clawing at the wall as the beast took him from behind. Peter, his ass gaped, cum flowing out of it as the thing forced itself down his limp throat. Peter’s mouth open in a drawn-out scream as what must have been his freshly-healed hole getting split open again. Always with a snarl on his face. Always from behind. “He just keeps knotting, ripping it out, making him clean it off and then he starts fucking again!”

His eyes still wide at the sight of the shrouded monster’s cock sawing through Hale’s ass in what must be the fifth go, Scott struggled to piece this together. “And no one heard anything?”

“Parrish was the only one on duty that night. He said he didn’t hear a thing.”

Scott boggled. “Did you show him the video? Look at him hollering! There’s no way he didn’t hear it!”

“Right?!” Stiles practically shouted, waving his hands. “He just handwaved it and said there were real crimes to deal with. That he didn’t have time to deal with ‘someone’s alpha getting out’ and ‘fucking the station’s bitch’.”

On the screen, steam started rising from the fiendish creature’s flesh as it once again mounted the powerful Hale alpha, its white-knuckled grip on Peter’s hips causing the were to throw his head back in another soundless cry of agony. It’d have been much more sympathetic if his cock hadn’t started spasming at that moment, shooting werewolf milk across the wall. 

Scott’s eyes were fixated on the fist-size knot that it forcefully fucked in and out of the Hale werewolf’s sucking, regenerating hole. “That… that’s not an alpha dude. That’s something else.”

“I told him that! Asshole said that I was free to go ‘dig for a sample’ in ‘the Hale bitch’s hole’ and ignored me.” Stiles harrumphed, shaking his head, though - like the other three in the room - his gaze never left the screen.

Something in the way Parish had responded struck Stiles at that moment, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was hard to tease out the particulars when he was so distracted by Derek’s heavy breathing in his ear, which seemed to practically mirror the hard, brutal thrusts of the nightmare-thing’s cock into the older Hale’s broken, blown-out hole. 

Watching the raw power of the creature as it turned a Hale alpha into a glorified fleshlight was having an effect on McCall, whatever its origins. He took a steadying breath. “It _is_ pretty hot though.” 

“Fuckin’ right?” Relieved that he wasn’t the only one, Stiles shifted in his seat to let his thickening pole have some room. “I mean, I know they’re just animals but…” 

Scott frowned. “They’re not animals, Stiles.” 

His friend said nothing. Part of Stilinksi disagreed, part of him thought that Scott was totally right, but he said nothing because there were unpleasant implications that lurked in the corners of his mind if he thought too much about it. The video on the screen showed the hellish creature flipping Peter Hale over, the were’s legs splayed open, so it could get that much more power behind its thrusts. He huffed. “They sure fuck like them at least, right?”

“God damn.” The tone of Scott’s muttered oath said it all. It was like watching two feral beasts tear at each other, only instead of to the death it was to being bred. Watching the hellspawn’s dick spear between Peter Hale’s big, quivering cheeks even as the alpha bared fang and spat was intoxicating. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw that even Isaac’s fanged mouth had fallen open. He glanced at Derek, running a hand down the were’s smooth, muscular back. “You guys liking this? You like watching that big alpha get dominated?”

Scott chuckled, knocking his leg against his friend’s. “I think _you’re_ liking it too.” The raised line down one side of Stilinski’s jeans was not subtle.

Stiles glanced down at the bulge in Scott’s shorts. “Says the guy turning this into a camping trip.”

His friend flushed, sheepishly tugging at it with his left hand a couple times before he rallied and just pulled himself out completely. “Gotta lead by example, right?” he asked, rolling his weight backwards to let it all hang out.

Stiles answered that smirk with one of his own, freeing himself with a jaunty _thrawp_ as his dick snapped back against his stomach. 

It had been a few years since they’d last compared. Sure, he’d mentally done it in the showers after practice, but this was the real deal. This was them hard.

His was large, he knew. Like, freakishly large. He’d seen enough porn to figure that out. Had enough comments from guys in the lockerroom too - none of them flattering. Oversized and rarely able to stand on its own, with a heavy circumcision scar at the bellend. Only Derek’s uncut, Hale-blood member was larger. Untrimmed pubes ran up about an inch on the shaft, brown and scraggly. He’d tried shaving them once, but his dad had walked in on him using his electric trimmer and had chewed him out for it. He didn’t have the courage to take a razor anywhere near his junk so it was a hairy, untamed jungle. 

In contrast, Scott McCall’s was almost perfect. Just long enough to inspire appreciation, just thick enough to make a meaty clap whenever he used his right hand to slap it against his left. He was tightly-trimmed, a pretty little patch that framed his cock, his tan, shaved balls. They were like two eggs, curved and defined. While he wasn’t quite as thick as Stilinksi, nor nearly as long, Stiles had to give credit where it was due: his friend really did have him beat when it came to the nuts. 

McCall stood, letting his shorts drop to his feet and switched hands to take an overhand, tug-away grip on his dick as he repositioned. 

His eye caught Stiles’s when he stepped close to fix his chair, wagging his tongue at him while continuing to jerk. Stiles grinned, wagging his tongue back, only to have it struck by a quick snap and twist of Scott’s hips. 

“Sick dude!” he exclaimed, pretending he hadn’t felt a thrill at the tap of his friend’s salty tip on his tongue.

Scott’s grin was a mile wide. “Does it take you back to 8th grade?”

“Yeah - you want to try gagging on this again?” Stiles taunted, pulling down on the magnum rod that had only doubled in size since then. 

“No way man, you nearly ruptured my throat last time!” Scott protested, giving himself a couple long, hard strokes.

Stiles held his tongue for a second, debating. He found he couldn’t resist. “Derek can do it.”

There was a second’s pause, as his friend processed the comment. “For real?” Scott asked, looking from his best friend’s twelve-inch monster to the black-haired, scruffy Hale were. “Hey Derek- woah.” He stared as the werewolf, already a step ahead, leaned over and slid the first eight inches of Stiles’s cock down his throat. Scott’s breath caught at the masterful ease the dairy-were showed at taking it, his whole body stiffening in time with his dick. “Wow.” 

Still not used to it himself, Stiles rallied, trembling as he pushed Derek’s warm, wet mouth away from nursing at his tip. “H- he loves doing that,” he stammered, almost managing to sound like he was in control. Then his head lolled, for a second, his mouth hanging open, his hips following the rise and fall of his were’s black-haired head. 

“Think he’ll suck mine?”

The question sent a thrill through Stiles’s dick. “Hey,” he murmured, fingers gingerly pressed to his were’s forehead. Derek ignored him, continuing to deepthroat the almost comically large rod. It was only when he momentarily came up for air that Stiles got the leverage to force him back long enough that he could swing his dick out from the were’s wet lips. 

Derek’s hazel eyes met his, accusingly, though he seemed mollified by Stiles’s chin-nod towards Scott’s cock. Derek didn’t even pretend to hesitate, practically throwing himself between Scott’s legs and swallowing the teen to the root with the same ease that he had taken his owner. 

“Ho-oooooh-ly fuck,” Scott drawled, his body tensing at the warmth, the tightness of Derek’s throat. 

Derek looked up at him with hooded eyes, Scott’s pretty, perfect cockhead resting on his lips. He opened his mouth, slowly, letting his hot breath wash over the spit-soaked dick. “Use your tongue,” McCall whispered. The werewolf stared at him, for a moment, another one of those long, inscrutable takes that left one wondering how much he actually understood before he extended his tongue and to gently flick at the slit. 

Watching someone with a face like that tease at the tip of his cock was a heady experience. Isaac was pretty, to be sure, but the Hale were - with his scruffy, five o’clock shadow and firm jaw - had an element of masculine beauty that left Scott spinning in the older were’s wake. The effect was made all the more powerful by the werewolf’s constant stare, his eyes locked with Scott’s, barely blinking even when he took the human’s decent girth, solid length into the back of his throat. He would bob, a couple times, before pulling off to once more focus solely on that delicate, leaking tip.

Derek scooped up each bead of seed that seeped out, sometimes as fast as they formed. Then, with his tongue, he rapidly circled the entire head, making a point of dragging as much as he could over the extremely sensitive underside of the cockhead. Whenever his attentions brought more beads of precum to the tip of Scott’s cock, he would move his mouth up and scoop out the fruits of his labor, his eyes closed. Savoring every sweep. 

This wasn’t the kind of attention Scott was used to. He’d been blown before, but never by someone who treated it with such devotion. It was too much. He cupped the underside of Derek’s chin, stroking his stubbly face as he eased him back: mostly to quell the urge of what he actually wanted to do, which was slam his hips against the werewolf’s face until he shot down his throat. “Fucking awesome,” he said, though he wasn’t sure if it was for Derek’s benefit or his own.

“Think we can get him to take Isaac’s?” Stiles suggested. Idly tugging at his bare cock. 

The two of them turned, Derek looking at both and then following their gaze, to where Scott’s stray had seated himself on the bed. For some reason, Isaac’s usually taciturn expression had only darkened while watching Derek blow McCall. 

Still, the older were seemed willing to try. He started to slide over, but was stopped by Scott placing a hand on the small of his smooth, tanned back. Instinctually, Scott stood and moved over, his hard dick bobbing as he stepped in beside the Hale were. 

“Okay, but here - let me help.” One hand on Derek’s back to urge him aside, Scott knelt before his stray, sliding his athletic shorts down with flick. Isaac’s face brightened almost immediately, especially when Scott’s fingers went to the waistband of the old jockstrap he’d forced him to wear that morning. Scott must have been right about something, because the stray didn’t even seem to mind Derek’s inquisitive probing of the old, worn cloth covering the breeder-wolf’s balls. 

Unfortunately for Hale, Scott was just as fast with discarding the jock. 

Isaac’s breath quickened. 

What sprang free was long, pale. Most of it was a faint pink, lighter than Stiles’s, except the tip, which was a healthy red. Uncut, too, though that was no surprise, with him being a werewolf. In all, it looked to be just shy of Stiles’s length, and not as thick as Scott, though it looked fearsome as fuck with the two dangling, low-hangers clacking behind it. 

Stiles scowled. Between Derek’s massive udder, Scott’s gorgeous set of plum-sized [i]huevos[/i], and now the stray’s long, loose breeder-bag, he was feeling practically neutered. 

Least his dick had twice the thickness of the were, he thought darkly, watching his friend and his own were explore Isaac’s nuts, tug on his cock with their hands. Then Scott did something that blasted all that jealousy out of Stiles’s head. 

Covering his lower teeth with his tongue, he simply leaned forward and popped Isaac’s rapidly hardening cock in his mouth, where he proceeded to - while not as expertly as Derek - swallow its sizeable length.

Picking his jaw up off the floor, Stilinski looked from Isaac - who’s head had fallen back - to Derek, who was studying the black-haired human intently, to Scott, who seemed curiously good at taking his were’s dick. Stiles just couldn’t stay quiet. 

“Dude…. Really?”

Licking his lips, Scott pulled off his were’s long shaft, giving it a few tugs with his right hand. “Yeah, it seems to calm him down. It’s like, how they bond, you know?” 

_It’s how_ werewolves _bonded_ , Stiles wanted to say, but he masterfully bit his tongue. It would be a precarious position, at best, to say that when he’d had his own dick halfway down a Hale werewolf’s Argent-trained throat. And he was pretty sure he’d seen his Dad with Derek a couple times...

Scott continued, heedless of his friend’s discomfort. “Besides, he was a stray. I kinda think that something bad happened to Isaac before I found him. I know that you say Derek smells like a mate to them, but he _looks_ like one hell of an alpha.” He tapped the older werewolf’s big, broad chest for emphasis - the tap somehow turning into a stroke of the Hale were’s pecs, a pinch of his nipples, a slide of the human’s fingers down to his full balls. 

Above him, Isaac’s pretty face soured with impatience. He wrapped his hand over his master’s loose grip, tightening both to give much firmer, much broader strokes. Scott laughed. “Ha, doesn’t stop you when you’re feeling frisky though, right?” The human teen redoubled his efforts, even going so far as to swirl his tongue against the pale, reddish tip of his werewolf’s dick. Then he pressed downward, making a noise that sounded suspiciously like a quickly-swallowed moan, not stopping until his nose was buried in Isaac’s - amusingly enough - also-trimmed pubes. Isaac sighed, his tight shoulders finally dropping.

Sinking back to his elbows, the stray caressed his master’s head with one hand, his lower clenched lip between his teeth. His breath slowed to match Scott’s languid bobs, his slate-blue eyes actually closing for a second.

They snapped open the moment Derek put his weight on the bed, the two weres once again sizing each other up. Derek, clearly the elder of the two, put a hand on the stray’s pale, lightly-haired thigh, his fingers spread wide as he slid it up towards Isaac’s hips. The younger werewolf’s pink lips parted, his legs widening ever so slightly in encouragement. 

Derek finally broke eye contact, taking in Scott’s movements for a moment before he darted in - quick, precise - to press his mouth to the bulge of Isaac’s cock in the human’s cheek. His sudden appearance beside Scott startled him, and in that flash of surprise the Hale were popped Isaac’s long, red-tipped length from Scott’s mouth and sucked it into his own. He held Scott’s stare for a long moment, his lips loose about the very tip of the lanky stray’s cock.

Brow furrowed, face scrunched in confusion, McCall stilled until his brain clicked and he realized just what the werewolf had done. An actual smirk appeared on Derek’s face, momentarily, before he doubled down on showing off just how much easier it was for him to bury his nose in Isaac’s pubes than it was for Scott. 

The Hale were was skilled. There was no denying the confidence he held while working Isaac’s pole, fist wrapped around the shaft, pumping in time with his mouth as it slid up and down. Practiced, to be sure, but what really did Scott in was Derek glancing at him from the corner of one eye while he worked… then sliding his free hand up the inside of the human’s thigh to cup his cock. Fondle it, stroke it, urge him closer, until they were pressed together between Isaac’s wide-spread legs. 

Nose filled with the scent of Derek, with the scent of his own were, the taste of Isaac’s dick still on his tongue, Scott fought the growing urge to do _more_. For once the two weres weren’t growling at each other; that should have been enough for him to step back, let things progress naturally from there. 

Watching Derek’s handsome face bob, however, watching the bulge in his throat move back and forth each time he sank down on Isaac’s long cock was doing something to him that he didn’t know how to explain. Something that made him want to press his teeth into the Hale were’s lean, muscular flesh, something that made him yearn for the feel of that familiar, pale were-cock sliding down his own throat. He wanted to press against both of them, feel Derek’s mouth on his dick while he milked his stray til he shot on his tongue.

Scott, breathing heavily, couldn’t control himself any longer. Sure, this was what they had been encouraging all along, but that was before he’d gotten all revved up himself. He tapped the werewolf’s shoulder, momentarily pausing his assault on Isaac’s cock. “Hold on Derek.” 

The werewolf glanced up at him. Scott rubbed one hand on the small of his back. “Let me do it with you.”

Hazel eyes wide, visibly nonplussed, Derek just stared as the human slowly leaned in and pressed his lips to the older were’s cock-filled mouth, pushing him back just enough that Isaac’s reddish head, foreskin peeled back, peeked out between them. 

Derek stayed stock-still for another second, even as Scott’s tongue plied his own, while Isaac’s salty tip slid back and forth between them. Then, seeming to decide something, he dropped his right hand from Isaac’s shaft and wrapped it about McCall’s shoulders, pressing the slimmer man into his breast while their tongues fought with vigor. Scott was more than game for a showdown, the two of them working in concert to trade his stray’s lengthy rod back and forth between their lips, their saliva coating it, mixing with each sloppy trade. At one point Scott had an actual, full-on grin as he pressed into the Hale were, the two of them following Isaac’s shaft down to where they could lap at the loose skin around the base, their noses bumping as they tongued his loose sac. Then they licked their way back up to fight over who could take the tip - some sort of truce at play, because Stiles, watching, knew full-well that his were could just swallow it to the root if he so wanted. 

He tightened his grip on his cock, part of him wishing it was his dick in-between the two, part of him simply in awe at their eager display. All of him was - for once in his life - at a loss for words. Two werewolves were naked on his bed, his best friend between them, and while he knew intellectually that Scott was right - this was pack-bonding behavior for weres, for _dairy_ -weres, whose ‘milk’ was a thriving industry across America - part of him was tied up in having to face facts:

At this point, he had a front-row seat to his best friend and his were making out around what sure as hell looked like a good-sized human dick. 

_Cock-teat_ , his mind corrected, but it was a tattered piece of cloth in the wind. Nothing could tear his eyes away from their lips meeting about Isaac’s shaft, watching their tongues tease, taunt each other as they slid about. 

Isaac’s pale fingers slid through both sets of black hair, curling, entwining about each head. Stroking them at times, gripping tightly to force his length between their lips at others. Stiles could see the corner of his friend’s mouth curve upward as he mouthed at Isaac’s balls, could see Derek pursue Scott’s mouth for more kissing about the younger were’s cock. Isaac, his bitten, red lips pursed in awe, ground his dick forward. 

Then his eyes flicked to Stilinski.

Face hot, Stiles broke away from the unspoken challenge, his gaze dropping first to Isaac’s fingers in his friend’s hair, then down further, across Derek’s back, then to the fat udder dangling between his were’s legs. Stiles watched it sway beneath the werewolf’s big, broad ass, his cheeks naturally spreading just enough to flash the shaved cunt that desperately needed a stud to fill it. It was tight, virginal, despite the use Stiles knew it had seen. 

Thinking about that had the heat creeping up his neck again. He glanced from Derek’s butt to his friend’s. Scott’s tight balls were on full display, looking the same as Derek’s milk-sac in shape, if not quite in size. 

Where Derek had a perfect ass designed for attracting a mate, however, his friend’s butt was tight and small, just a bit of fat to fill it out, and fine, black hair between his un-tanned cheeks. His hole, tight and actually virginal - probably, at any rate - was a dark whorl that was only hinted at when he moved. A secret that only came out when he shifted backwards, in which case his cheeks would part and Stiles couldn’t help but stroke himself as he wondered if Scott had ever… done anything with it. Fingers, maybe, just to the first knuckle: to see what it was like. Or if he’d ever let a certain pale stray prod his long, pale, red-tipped self against it, maybe even slip in the tip. 

Stiles knew Scott. He knew his adventurous friend, always willing to try something new, wouldn’t say no. There were enough times when he’d felt McCall fall against him, take too long to move away. He sucked in a deep breath, jerking himself - literally - back into his body. 

The urge to slap himself against the cleft between those cheeks was overwhelming. He stroked, long, fast, at the thought of beating that flesh with his own. His eyes flicked back to Isaac’s, meeting that steely blue gaze with a momentary, defiant flare. 

Eyes locked with Stilinksi, the angular stray tightened his grip on both heads, shifting just enough that he could direct Derek to his balls… while maneuvering the full length of his shaft down his master’s throat. Scott gagged, but only momentarily, pushing himself up high enough that he was in a better position. A move that made his balls sway between his black-haired thighs, a move that swung his ass out just that much more, a move that left him exposed. Vulnerable. 

Like Derek. 

The thought crossed his mind before he could dispel it. Comparing his were’s slick, hungry cunt, the way it devoured toys with ease, to his friend’s tight, dark hole fed something in his gut. Something that had him imagining what it’d be like to just reach out, reach forward and fondle both asses in front of him. Sink his fingers into Derek’s, who would open with ease. Tap against his friend’s, feel him clench in surprise - 

Stiles couldn't take it anymore. He tightened his grip on his dick, willing the surge of blood back to where it was supposed to be. His mouth quirked a couple times before he found a quip.

“Scott, if you’re giving out blowjobs based on sad backstories, I _am_ part orphan.” 

Scott pulled off his were’s long dick, turning to his suffering friend. A smile danced about the corners of his lips as he casually took Stiles’ meaty cock in hand and bent forward to fold his mouth about the tip. Stiles’ toes curled, his whole body tensing at the heat, the teasing tongue, before Scott pulled away. Smirking. 

“Oh, come on,” Stiles whined, wagging his thick, spit-soaked rod. “Dude, you can’t - you can’t just - hooooo,” he trailed off, head lolling back as Derek helpfully swallowed him to the hilt. It wasn’t the same as having his best friend tease the tip, but he had to give his werewolf credit; the were was damn good at sucking dick. 

Rising, Scott laughed at his friend’s utter helplessness after a little bit of attention to his meaty cock. He gripped himself, once again transfixed by the rise and fall of the bulge in Derek’s throat as he worked. 

Isaac, always watching, was not so enamored. He did not trust the were-bitch, however he might act in the moment. His eyes raked over the huge, powerful, Hale-blood were, on his knees, shaved cunt wide open, as he choked himself on Stilinksi’s pole. Taking him would be easy. It would be what he wanted. His attention shifted to his master, who looked on, jerking himself off to his friend’s toe-curling blowjob. 

His hands were drawn, of their own accord, to that tight little waist, grasping at Scott’s hips, drifting over the human’s taut stomach, rising to his hard, small pecs and falling as he crowded close. Used to it, Scott let his were move as he pleased. . 

The stray pressed his face to the small of McCall’s back, filling his nose with Scott’s scent. His tongue snuck out to lap his tanned skin, let his fangs nibble at the markedly paler flesh of his butt. Scott made no move to stop him - actually relaxing into it, in fact. Isaac slid his hands down from that narrow waist to grip the human’s hips, squeezing as he pressed his face into Scott’s back once again. 

Then, because he could never resist pushing the limits, he slid off the bed, kneeling behind the shorter man - who didn’t notice anything. His face sly, the stray pushed those pale cheeks apart, revealing the dark, whorled hair, that tight ring of flesh that he had smelled Stiles’s admiration of earlier. 

Then he pressed his tongue flat into it. 

“Isaac!” Scott hissed, planting a hand on the were’s forehand to force him back. 

Dizzy from the loss of blood to his dick, Stiles struggled to parse what was going on. He blinked at his friend’s struggle. “Is - is he trying to eat you out?” The thought of Scott’s puckered hole, on display beside Derek’s, rose unbidden in his mind. He tried to banish it from thought, although not before he felt yet another hard stiffening through his hard dick. 

“Y-yeah,” Scott stammered, face red. “He’s been kinda weird about it lately.” Kind of real weird. He said nothing about how the stray had first forced his face between his cheeks after practice the other day - nor about how he’d let him do it again that night. The next night too, and the one after that. 

Or even this morning. 

He tried to give Isaac’s blond head another shove, but stopped at Stiles’s soft, “You wanna let him?” 

Scott stared at him, his breath hot. Heavy. “If he likes doing it…” Stiles continued, shrugging. As nonchalant as he could with his were’s tongue sliding up his cock. 

Behind Scott, Isaac tightened his clawed grip on his master’s thighs. Almost as if he was listening. As if he understood the suggestion. HIs tongue swiping between Scott’s cheeks, his fangs scraping - just enough to let his master notice their presence - was certainly well-timed. And suspicious. 

Scott hesitated, wetting his lips in mirror to how his were wet his ass. His gaze flicked down to Derek, who had one cheek pressed to Stiles’s stomach while his tongue toyed with the tip of Stilinski’s cock. His hazel eyes met Scott’s stare, held it, as his mouth closed deliberately over the rounded head. The Hale were returned McCall’s gaze, unblinking, even as Stiles whined and tried to force more of his stiff length down his throat. 

There was a challenge there, in that inscrutable depth. One Scott wasn’t sure he knew how to answer. But the pulse of his blood, heady with the throbbing of his erection, the static in the air, provided direction enough.

Not quite meeting his friend’s eyes, he slowly relaxed his hold on Isaac’s head - letting the pale werewolf press his cheeks fully into his master’s lightly-haired cleft. Letting him press, letting him scrap, letting him tease his nearly virgin hole with that tongue. Each move sent a jolt of sensation straight to his dick, making it bounce and flex, making his breath catch to keep any moans from slipping out. 

For a long time, for what felt like at least a thousand beats, there was only the four of them; each wholly lost in the feel of the body beneath them, lost in the riot of pleasure arching through their dicks, or what they could do with their tongues, or the power they felt growing within at each hitched breath and stifled gasp. That animal magnetism, that primal draw that the werewolves could barely tap into individually had multiplied. Compounded. Had swept the hapless teens, even the wolves themselves, into its current. 

Isaac stood up to mouth at the nape of Scott’s neck, his arms wrapping about his master to fondle his pecs. Squeeze those small, brown nipples. Stiles, in a moment of relief when Derek finally stopped deep-throating his dick long enough to swallow, absently ran his hand down his were’s back. Hale’s ass rose to meet him, smooth, perfect .His hole giving readily upon contact, letting human fingers sink in to the third knuckle without a shred of resistance. 

“You think he might eat Derek’s?” Stiles asked, his voice husky. 

Well... Scott looked to his were. He thought of that pretty face, those red lips assaulting Derek’s hole. 

He was willing to try. 

\-------


	2. The Volume of a Were

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you stuck through that absurdly long lead-up, I hope you enjoy this chapter here! I had no idea writing Teen Wolf AU could be so fun!

Of course, “try” being the optimal word, as getting a were to do something, anything, other than what it had its mind set to was nearly impossible.

Isaac, for example, kept making a point of burying his face between Scott’s cheeks, even when McCall tried getting down on all fours beside the Hale wolf. “No, eat him out the way you do me!” he scolded, not for the first time, when his were did it again.

Derek was equally unhelpful, gulping down Scott’s dick whenever he sat up, or gagging himself on Stiles’s whenever the other naked teen tried to help his friend.

If he didn’t know any better - and at this point, he was honestly starting to doubt - Scott would have sworn the two lusty, eager, supernatural creatures were fucking with them.

Which was really unfair, because he was trying his best to just get his hot, horny werewolf to let off some steam - to actually _use_ that magnificent length to full effect - and here Isaac was using it as a chance to revel in his innate, contrarian character.

Whatever goodwill he’d earned with the curly-haired stray that morning seemed to have vanished, for as much as he cajoled, as much as he tried to get his uncooperative were to approach Derek - as much as they both tried to get an uninspired Derek to do something to entice the stray - nothing happened. Even trying to move them bodily closer just resulted in a bunch of dicks slapping against each other as the two humans struggled with each werewolf, which was admittedly a very pleasant diversion but quite far from the actual point of bringing Isaac over to stud in the first place.

Catching their breath after uselessly wrestling with Derek, Stiles stood in front to his friend, pretending he didn’t notice or enjoy how the tip of Scott’s cock would tap appreciably against his weighty shaft every so often. Their weres stood nearby, amusement flickering about the edges of their seemingly compliant faces. Stiles inhaled sharply through his nose and leaned forward to Scott, very much _not_ noticing how much he liked the proximity.

“He’s not biting,” he muttered. “Which is the whole point of getting him to EAT, Scott. He has to BITE in order to EAT. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“We’re getting there. It’s a process.” Scott’s assurance was tinged with good humor, the teen more than used to his reactive friend. “Sides,” he grinned, bumping himself significantly against Stiles’s hefty manhood. “It hasn’t been all bad, right?”

This time, it was Stiles’s turn to flush. He said nothing, for a while.

“Do you think you need to show him how?”

It took a second for his friend to work out what he’d just suggested. When it clicked, Scott swung around to Stiles in disbelief. “You want me to try eating Derek out too?”

Letting the weres do what they wanted to the humans was one thing. Here, Stiles had just suggested pretty clearly going over an unspoken line, one that Scott had been realizing he really had… very few… compunctions about crossing himself.

Stiles went silent. “My dad does it.”

More surprised by that than by anything else, Scott puzzled, looking confused. “Okay so why don’t you do it?”

“Because I’ve never eaten anyone out before!”

“You think I have?” McCall demanded.

Face flat, Stiles looked his friend dead in the eye. “You’re seriously telling me that Alison never sat on your face.”

Breaking away, Scott - hard and naked - shifted his weight, his reddening ears and goofy little grin betraying him. “Okay,” he admitted. “Maybe I have.” He hesitated a moment, gripping himself tightly. Notably, his dick hadn’t softened at the idea.

“You prepped him?” he asked, going over to Derek and urging him around. The brawny were, with his impressive body, was more than willing to kneel on all fours over the bed and show off his freshly-shaved butt.

“Washed him out, clean as a whistle,” Stiles quipped, trying not to acknowledge the weirdness of his big dick - too heavy to stand on its own - twitching at the sight of his best friend together with his were. “Just like Dad does…” he added, under his breath. Because that whole thing was kinda fucking weird too and he had no idea how to even begin to process _that_.

On Stiles’s bed, Scott paused to take in just what he was supposed to be working with. While he’d known that keeping a werewolf fit and active did wonders for its morale, it was practically magic for supernaturals’ bodies; Derek was absolutely shredded, no two ways about it. Alison had been tough, with core strength and great arms - archery did that to a girl - and Isaac, lanky though he was, had a wiry, tensile strength. The stray was always happy to join his master in a workout, even tried to practice some lacrosse a couple times, but Derek… Scott whistled to himself. Even without the rock-hard cock - teat - cockteat - whatever, there was no doubt as to the supernatural power, the virility, of the dairy-were.

“Like this, Isaac.” Scott called to his quiet werewolf. He gestured at Derek’s ass with his free hand. “Just like you do to me, but to him.”  
With that in mind, the black-haired teen spread his hands appreciatively over Derek’s broad back, running them up and down before coming to grope the werewolf’s well-formed glutes. In this position, they were flexed, sharply defined in some places but the full roundness of the Hale were’s ass kept its plumpness in others. Scott had never been much of an ass-man in the past, but he had to admit that between Alison, the way Isaac had been filling out since getting decent food, and now this up-close and personal view with a Hale-blood were… He had to admit, he was starting to see the appeal.

Bending over, he nipped with small, human teeth at the triskelion tattoo in the middle of the werewolf’s back, biting his way down the tanned flesh on either side of Derek’s spine. He felt the dairy-were jump when he actually nibbled his ass, Derek turning to give him an appraising look over his shoulder.Getting that sort of reaction from such a physically powerful were was invigorating. A heady feeling that had him groping the werewolf’s ass in excitement. He pushed him forward, roughly, and used both hands to spread his buttocks wide.

Derek’s asshole glistened, alternatively virgin-were and dark with experience. It was a powerful draw. The teen leaned forward, extending his pink tongue. Forming it into a point, he flitted it across the dairy-were's exposed hole, in an action he’d seen many times on video but had only been able to practice a little bit in life. At that first contact, Derek almost jumped, turning halfway to peer back at Scott’s head between the round mounds of his cheeks. A thick glob of milk oozed from the tip of his intimidating cockteat, his udder managing a seemingly endless supply of the stuff. 

Stiles, watching, swallowed hard. His heavy dick twitched against his thigh.

Feeling the were responding, Scott began giving the athletic, muscle-bound wolf more and more attention from his tongue. He alternated between fluttering the tip and flattening it out, running the entire, wet, muscular organ up and down the twitching pucker of the dairy-were’s cunt. For the first time since they’d known him, Derek seemed almost paralyzed. He was frozen, stretching his neck over his shoulder to watch the surprisingly enthusiastic teen tease his ass, the usually reserved were unable to keep from biting his lips in pleasure.

“You’re ah…” Stiles interjected, watching them, “Doing pretty good there, Scott.” He cast an appraising look at Derek’s drooling teat before he couldn’t resist teasing his friend. Just a little. “That ‘cause you’ve got so much practice getting it yourself?”

“Shut up,” Scott replied, flushing.

Stiles held up his hands, placatingly. “Hey, can’t help it if you got an ass that makes guys want to bury their tongue in it!”

That came out before he’d really thought it through. There was a tense moment where Scott looked blank, and then like he was about to puzzle something out. Stilinski cut in quickly, shooing his friend away from the Hale were’s broad, muscular glutes.

“Over here, Isaac!” he called, forcibly dropping the topic of Scott’s ass and its edibility. He whistled, as one one to a dog, which got him a dagger-like glare from the tall, rangy stray.

It did little to deter him. “Look, here’s an actual cunt for you to dig into!” he called, helpfully digging two fingers into the dairy-were’s hole, but it didn’t seem to be enough to bring the curly-haired were over. His shoulders slumped.

He looked to his friend, who had returned to playing with Derek shaved, Argent-trained (and Stilinski-attended) hole, pressing on it experimentally with both thumbs. They sunk in with surprising ease. Scott didn’t notice him at first, so Stiles concentrated harder, focusing his incredible mental energy to beam his thoughts into his best friend’s head. 

Scott looked up to see him staring. “What?”

Stiles shot him a pointed look, followed by a very pointed nod towards Isaac. Twisting at the waist, Scott saw his pale, marble-skinned were seated part-way on Stiles’s desk, mouth curled in his habitual frown.

“Isaac,” Scott called, standing. His erection caught the edge of that ring of puckered flesh between Derek’s cheeks, causing the werewolf to actually jerk… and something to spark in his eyes. “Dude, get over here! You like eating ass so much, I’d have thought you’d love this!”

Most of the time Isaac was pretty good at following Scott’s orders. This time, however, he seemed to be in a bit of a mood, petulantly holding Scott’s gaze before directing a significant look at his uncut dick, standing long and proud.

“I don’t know if he doesn’t get it, or isn’t feeling well, or what,” Scott said, with a sigh, Defeated, he turned back to spread his hands over Derek’s waist, pulling the werewolf’s butt against his hips. He had really, really been looking forward to seeing his were using that impressive length on an the dairy-were’s hole.

“I think he knows, dude. He just doesn’t want to.” Stiles watched as his friend’s stray padded over quietly, pressing himself against his master’s back. Sheesh the stray werewolf was tall. And as long as himself. “Looks like he’s ready to do something else though.”

Scott’s brow furrowed for a second before his were ground his hips forward, meaningfully. He huffed. “He’s always ready for that. Guy’s a straight up horndog.”

Stiles gazed at him a moment, his face carefully neutral. “You… ever let him?”

“No!” Scott snapped, a bit too quickly. A flush crept up his tanned face, however, as his were continued to hotdog his cock between the human’s un-tanned cheeks. He looked away. “Just with my thighs sometimes.”

Shaking the image of his friend’s firm, athletic body pinned beneath a horny, thrusting version of the stray from his head, Stiles took a measured breath to steady himself before bouncing backwards on the bed, his oversized cock clacking against his skinny legs in the process.

“What if we show him that he can use Derek’s thighs the same way? That’ll get him close and then biology can do the rest, right?” he asked, settling near the top.

“Oh, like the two of us?” Scott asked, looking down at where he happily nestled himself between Derek’s warm cheeks. “Yeah, sure dude.”

“So, like, you do this on your stomach with him hittin’ it from the back or…?”

Feeling heat rise through his face, Scott looked away. “On my side.” As if to illustrate, Isaac clutched the brown-eyed human close, rutting himself against Scott’s cute little butt. Scott had to chuckle, rolling his eyes. “Him behind me.”

He slid a leg on the bed, urging the Hale were forward. Derek followed his prompting, crawling across the king-sized bed on all fours towards his naked, erect owner. Scott made to go after him, but the second he got his other knee on the bed he felt his stray’s hands on his hips, holding him in place just in time for Isaac to drive his narrow length straight at the human’s unguarded hole.

Snapped upright, struggling to see past the stars that had lit up his vision, Scott pulled himself free, surprised - relieved - that he didn’t actually feel Isaac slipping out of him.

“Don’t push like that here,” he breathed, blood racing at how deep the tip of the blond were’s dick had gone into him. His eyes flicked nervously to his friend, but fortunately neither Stiles nor the dairy-were had heard it. They were focused on… other matters.

The two of them had meant to just frot between the dairy-were’s thick, muscled thighs, but it seemed like Derek had gotten the wrong idea, for he had taken Stiles’s nearly wrist-thick, foot-long rod and was trying to push himself down over the tip.

“Derek?!” Stiles practically shrieked, grabbing for the were’s huge biceps. “Derek! No!” he ordered, eyes bulging as he felt himself connect with his handsome, masculine werewolf’s well-shaved, well-eaten hole. He tried to bark a second order, but was cut off by the feel of getting forced deep between the dairy-were’s hard, strong cheeks. “Nooooooh my god! Oh my god!”

When the gigantic, blunt, circumcised head of Stiles’s beast finally slipped past his slick-as-fuck were-cunt, Derek practically howled. Knowing there was a lot more to go, however, he gritted his teeth and brought more of his weight down on the hapless human teen beneath him. A huge drip of near-white precum oozed out his cockteat’s slit as gravity forced the human’s hefty shaft through the tight lips of Derek’s ass.

Behind them, Scott and Isaac were astounded witnesses to the slow, agonizing penetration, Derek’s breath was coming out sharply through his nose as his ass opened to accept Stiles’s horse-sized erection. Half-scowling, half-undone, the dairy-were’s thighs began to shake as he kept pushing downwards, Stiles’s moans lost in his snarl. Scott wavered, part of him in awe of anyone that could actually take his friend’s freakishly large cock. It was only when Isaac ground against him once again, one pale hand going to tug on the human’s own stiff length that he came back to his senses.

He crawled forward across the bed, pushing Derek’s ass up so he could see where his nerdy friend’s impressive pole disappeared into the dairy-were’s cunt. Derek Hale was happy to oblige the teen, even though pulling upwards so soon meant a silent twisting of his face as he rose - but only enough to show off just how much shaft his hole had swallowed. Then he slammed back down, netting a high-pitched squeal from his skinny owner.

“Holy shit Stiles!” Scott blurted, barely able to comprehend what he’d just seen the Hale were manage to do. Bewildered, he placed both hands on Derek’s cheeks, forcing them apart to look at where they were joined. “What’s it like?”

Previously virgin to another’s touch until a few minutes before - well, not counting Derek or Scott - Stiles’s brain swung around in orbit about his body as he tried to reconcile the riot of sensation he was getting from his dick. “He’s - oh my god - dude,” he struggled, his tongue thick in his mouth. Christ, he was getting so much feedback it was hard to believe his whole body hadn’t disappeared into Derek’s hole. More worthless noises fell from his mouth, the teen blindly thrusting up, digging at the werewolf’s sides for more. “Dude, holy fuck - oh, god, dude!”

That was not the kind of endorsement Scott was about to pass up.

McCall swore under his breath, slapping the shaft of his cock with considerable force a couple times before he looked to Derek’s strong, sharply-defined ass. Biting his lip, Scott hopped forward on the bed to slap his rigid pole against the werewolf’s bouncing buttocks. Inside the were, Stiles’s cock had fully hardened since it’d been swallowed, and it now claimed itself almost a full foot of towering greatness. Derek merely frowned, slightly, a glistening bead off were-milk leaking from the rock-hard, enormous head of his swollen dairy-were teat. It splattered against the vague lines of Stiles’s abs.

The blunt slapping noise of Scott's boner whacking against the werewolf’s hardy ass almost seemed to echo through the bedroom. He was clearly enjoying himself with the horseplay. Derek leaned forward, trying to aim his now exposed asshole at the human's dick; as full as he was, the Hale bitch in him still craved more. Nothing compared to that feeling of completeness during penetration.

Hormones surging, Scott blindly followed the werewolf’s lead. He placed a hand on the small of Derek’s back, pushing him forward, continuing to smack his heavy cock against the were’s ass: both of them enthralled with his inching closer to that stuffed hole every time.  
Derek was more than excited; that much was obvious for all to see, just based on how his body responded to Scott’s teasing slaps. His hazel eyes had darkened, his breast heaving in short, staccato breaths and even the humans could tell that some sort of heady pheromone lingered in the air. His heightened hearing had his claws curling in the sheets when he heard the teen behind him finally shift, however: weight braced fully on his hips, cock resting alongside Stilinksi’s over his hole.

"This thing really gonna happen?" Scott wondered aloud, mostly to himself. If there was ever the opportunity, this Hale were was it. He let his hand drift from Derek's back to cup one full, sizable cheek in his palm. His soft brown eyes lingered a moment, before he pressed his now straining, painfully solid, uncut cock against the werewolf’s hole.

Ravenous as it was, the were’s perfect, hairless asshole swallowed him whole. Scott had more than half his own considerable length inside Derek before his brain could catch up with his body. He froze, struggling to parse exactly what the fuck had just happened.

“Is - is that your dick?” his friend asked, in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Scott grunted. He sucked his lower lip between his teeth, struggling with the feel of Stiles pressed against him.

“What are you - no way.” A click went off in Stiles’s brain. His eyebrows shot up. “No way!”

“Way,” his friend breathed, giving it a few experimental thrusts. His balls tensed up immediately, his whole body electrified by the dairy-were’s dick-devouring depths.

Derek had to remove one hand from where had braced on the mattress to push back against one of Scott’s un-tanned thighs, urging him to a better position. Scott obliged; from there, it was much easier to line his cock up with the were’s sopping-wet hole. He had to readjust his weight, lacking the werewolf stamina to keep the same position for so long, but after shifting and catching his breath he was ready. McCall slowly inched his hips forward, the tip forcibly parting the tight, already-stuffed cunt.

After just that little bit slid in Scott sucked a deep breath and bore down even harder, sheathing himself nearly halfway for a second time. The thickness of the middle of his shaft was the biggest problem, squeezed as it was against his friend’s mighty, elephantine rod. They could both feel the werewolf’s insides spasm before Derek's cock-teat pulsed, twice, a thin strand of clear, shining fluid dripping off the flared head and trailing to Stilinski’s stomach.

Heartened by the sight of weremilk, Stiles cheered him on. “Woah, Derek, you’re really doing it, aren’t you? You’re really taking us both!”  
On his feet behind the Hale were, Scott looked down to watch as he fed more and more of his thick, utterly stiff cock into the dairy-were’s body. The were shook, jumped, as each inch, every vein passed through the sensitive nerve-endings of his greedy were-cunt. It was so intense that at one point, the teen had to throw his head back and groan as he felt the last few inches push all the way in, his balls pressing into his best friend’s. It was a wonder that he had the control to even rock back and forth a few times.

“Don’t stop Scott, dude, just keep going like that!” Stiles begged, his head lolling back on the pillows. He tried to thrust upwards, not in the position to manage much. Still, part of him was staggered, rambling incoherently. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we? This isn’t some fucked-up dream where I’m DP’ing my werewolf with my best friend or something, right?”

That thought had him groaning, only slightly in frustration. “Shit, this doesn’t make me gay, does it? Like it’s just a werewolf, right dude? I mean yeah it’s hot but that’s just normal, right? Scott? Right?!”

Scott ignored his friend’s babbling, biting his lip as he drove himself into the big werewolf with languid snaps of his hips. He had to admit - feeling himself slide against another man’s bone as he entered, swung back, was a heady experience. It was a lot like frotting, only they were wrapped in a warm, quivering glove that was trying to strangle the life out of their dicks. That was the other crazy part of this: no matter how he sawed himself in or out, Derek’s hole never got any looser. Werewolf regeneration had his experienced hole looking purpled and bruised, but always holding strong against them. Even an experimental tug of the flare of his glans against it from the inside found it almost unyielding.

An odd look came to his eye. He found himself focused solely on the feel of popping his cockhead in and out, drawing sharp grunts from Derek and whines from Stiles. He did it five or six times before ramming himself in with a wicked grin.

Derek actually let out a full howl, then.

Momentarily forgotten by his master, Isaac watched the lithe, athletic teen from behind, his blue eyes flicking from Scott’s substantial set of nuts - bouncing back each time he thrust into the Hale were’s ass - to Stilinksi’s baseball bat of a cock, barely able to move. His normally taciturn expression lightened as he rose to his full height, standing half a head taller than even his black-haired master. He slunk towards the trio on the bed, his great, pale cock, able to stand on its own - unlike some - bouncing as it led the way.

Its uncut tip was the first thing Scott felt brush against the side of his plump cheeks, a hairsbreadth before the rangy were stole up to his back: nose on his neck, arms pressing about him, hands joining his in groping Derek’s well-built ass.

The handsome stray, with his warm body and seeking mouth, was enough to distract him from his playful testing of the older were’s hole. He glanced over his shoulder, hesitating for a second at the heat he saw in that gray-blue gaze. His jaw worked. “Hey,” he managed, as Isaac’s body pressed him deeper into Derek.

Feeling the werewolf beneath him tense and shudder at the stretching was fucking incredible.

Scott cast an eye towards his human friend, making sure the Hale were they were fucking still blocked his sight. “Isaac,” he breathed, his stray’s thin, red lips already closing for a kiss. The blond were came at him as though he were starving, running his hands up and down his master’s chest while deepening the kiss.

“You finally getting the picture, Isaac? You getting what I need you to do?” Scott asked his were, his brown eyes as fathomless, unknowable as a forest pool.

Isaac stared for a long moment, forgetting about the feel of the human’s hard little butt pressed against his hips. About his length, trapped between Scott’s legs. About the smell of sex, the hunger in the air, about anything other than the human’s naked invitation to _join him_.

In that moment, he resolved that he would do everything his master could do.

Including fuck a purebred Hale wolf.

Isaac’s cocky smirk was all the response Scott needed. He stole another quick kiss from the tall, gaunt stray, keeping him flush against his back. The human pulled upward - his bone still buried in Derek's ass, drawing a sharp hiss from the older were’s lips. A hiss that turned into a rumbling, fang-baring roar when Isaac, more than equipped with the necessary length, forced himself in alongside Scott and Stiles.

Having only meant to give his stray room to see them, Scott attempted to stand - only to be stopped in place by Isaac’s werewolf grip on his waist. “What are you-?” he whispered, before he lost all sense at the feel of his were’s long cock start thrusting.

“Wha- what the _fuck_ , guys!” Stiles exclaimed, pinned in place by his dairy-were’s absolutely jacked arms. His jaw dropped at the only explanation he could think of to explain what he was feeling through his dick. “Are you _both_ inside with me?!”

Scott grunted something unintelligible, incapable of speech at the moment. Isaac, unable to talk but more than pleased with Stilinski’s reaction, curled his tightly-pursed lips into a grin. And kept railing.

Stiles groaned, his hips joining weakly. He looked up to Derek for an answer, but got nothing. His usually headstrong were was drenched in sweat. His mouth hung open in pleasure, his fangs bared completely at the pain of having three equally impressive cocks stuffed into his werewolf cunt. Derek’s werecunt-lips stretched mightly around the thick, veiny shafts, clutching and sucking them deeper, even as he groaned and rocked back and forth with the force of three studs thrusting into it.

The werewolf squeezed his eyes shut, savoring the sensation of being filled with dick again and again, that all-consuming urge, that _hunger_ , sated at last. Despite his heaving chest, despite his struggle not to scream every time the younger were - the stray - rammed home, jabbing McCall’s hefty pole up into his guts and Stilinski’s obscene monster into his prostate, Derek couldn’t help but feel like he’d ascended to another plane.

Nothing the Argents had done - not even Kate - had prepared him for _this_.

Confidence surging, the dairy-were barked his encouragement at the three teens, only one of which could actually understand him. Isaac redoubled his efforts, his breath hitching as the glory of feeling his master beside him in a werewolf bitch momentarily overwhelmed his senses. His head fell forward, his mouth blindly seeking Scott’s smooth, sun-tanned flesh to sink his teeth into, even as his cock savaged Derek’s greedy, sucking hole. Scott yelped at his were’s vigorous love-bite, but just kept using the angle he’d achieved to drive himself against his friends’ dicks - and into Derek’s hole. 

Neither human was much of a match for their experienced wolves, however, being too excited, too eager to lose themselves in lust.  
The two humans seized, their hips jerking of their own accord, as they were completely taken by their weres. One, with his vice-grip innards, contracting and pulsing around their stiff shafts, the other frotting the fuck out of their hapless cocks in the process. Both weres knew they were too much for them, each smirking in their own way before shifting into overdrive. Tough as Isaac was, however, even hard-used as he had been, he was no match for a beast like Derek Hale.

Bottoming was part and parcel of the Hale bloodline. Some were just better at hiding it than others.

A dangerous light coming to one hazel eye, Derek bore down on the trio of rigid, thrusting cocks inside him. All three of the others gasped, groaning as they felt themselves getting massaged, forced into each other by the elder were. That primal charisma, that animal sway that had hooked Scott at the start was surging once again, not just trapping the four of them but full-on drowning them in its wake. Each and every one of them was utterly overwhelmed, and it didn’t matter to Scott that his plump, round balls were dragging wetly across Isaac’s long shaft every time he pulled out. It didn’t matter to Stiles that he was stuck underneath his very masculine, disturbingly attractive, dairy-were’s gorgeous chest, or that he and his best friend and his best friend’s _were_ were all fucking the same bitch.

In that moment, they were all united by their need to plow the absolute daylight out of Derek Hale.

It was only a stroke of luck that broke them out of that endless cycle of the groaning, the growling, the sliding against each other. Distracted by the press of the dairy-were’s silky insides about his and his best friends’ dicks, Scott barely noticed Isaac slipping out during one particularly long pull. The absence of his were’s pale, red-tipped length just meant that he was able to bounce that much more freely against Derek’s meaty ass.

Thrusting upwards, his cock jabbing uselessly against his master’s thighs, at Derek’s cheeks once or twice, Isaac opened his eyes, leaning back to adjust his aim.

He was met with the sight of Scott’s firm cheeks, that delightful cleft left open, with its fine whorl of small, black hairs, dancing around an unspoiled hole that had always quivered with delight under his tongue.

Isaac frowned, making one last half-hearted, slippery attempt to get back inside the werebitch with his alpha, but Scott’s fat balls and steady thrusts kept dislodging the head of his cock before it could gain purchase. The skinny werewolf did not have the patience for this, not now that his blood was all worked up, and _especially_ not when his own alpha’s ass was on full display, with its tight little virgin flesh taunting him.

Reminding him of its beautiful taste. Reminding him how quickly the human fell apart when he played with it.

Isaac’s dark eyes flicked from Scott’s hole to the back of the teen’s head, his pale hands massaging each cheek, keeping it on display. Lost in the feel of the huge, muscular man shuddering beneath him, Scott barely paid his own were any mind - not even when Isaac shifted his feet on the bed, rising to press his long manhood to the middle of that puckered hole.

Not terribly surprised by the feel of his stray’s cock pushing up against him once more, Scott flashed a lip-bitten grin over his shoulder: enjoying the hot slide of his own thickness against his best friend’s, inside the Hale were. Enjoying the press of something firm against his backside as well, if he were honest.

Letting the lanky were wrap his arms about his chest, move those greedy hands down to grasp at his narrow waist - squeezing, providing resistance to his thrusts into Derek - Scott only hummed his encouragement. 

That got Isaac nipping at his collar, at his jaw: seeking a kiss. Sometimes his rebellious were could be downright sweet.

When he finally forced the head of his own long, solid cock in, however, Scott’s eyes went wide. It was at once both an intrusion to the most sacred of places and a glory he had never known - then the were started to slide the rest of his many fine inches in. 

It was enough to make his eyes roll back, his jaw go slack. Merely human, Scott was only dimly aware of the press of Isaac’s chest to his bare back when the werewolf eventually bottomed out. The world fell away, save for his white-knuckle grip on the mounds of Derek’s ass, his fingers leaving marks on the were’s tanned flesh. Save for the press of one werewolf about him, the press of one werewolf _inside_ him. He fell forward, one hand going to grip the Hale-were’s neck for support, only to have some primal part of him choosing to _squeeze_ instead.

Squeeze like the dairy-were was doing to his dick. Make him feel that same loss, that same intensity he felt at Isaac pressing so deeply inside him. He didn’t mind the sound of Derek choking, nor even the pain in his thigh, where Derek - reaching backwards - dug his claws into human flesh. It just made him nearly animal in his arousal, in his urge to dominate just as he himself was being impaled. Scott felt a pulse rock through him, his lower lip curling over his teeth as some feral part of him relished the tumult of pain, of defeat. Of pleasure... of triumph.

He ground himself against Stiles, who wheezed, “Woah there, Scott! You don’t have to - oh boy!”

McCall said nothing, focused only his mindless glide back and forth, trapped inside one werewolf and another inside _him_.

During this back and forth action between the two remaining men inside him, Derek got more demanding, more vocal with his desire. This went on for what seemed like an age before Stiles started to pant, his whole body tensing. Derek, sensing that he was close, grabbed the human’s hands and dragged them to his swollen nipples, making the teen massage them. Stiles, shocked at how good it felt to molest the werewolf’s tits, groaned, then squeezed harder.

With an animal grunt, the Hale were’s cock slapped against his stomach, a thick shot of cum arcing out of the head. The first one landed over Stiles’s shoulder. It seemed to be the sign the human needed, as his eyes rolled back into his head and he gave himself over completely to climax.

“Oh my god,” he murmured. “Oh my god! I’m fucking cumming in a werewo-!” He broke off, his voice rising in pitch before it disappeared completely. Scott’s single-minded driving of his length against him was sending sparks straight to his brain, nearly blackening his sight. His baseball-bat rod felt like it had grown two sizes, with all the blood in his body pooling right there in his cock before he finally shot his first load. It felt like he lost half his guts in the process, so much seed spilled out of him. Cum oozed out the side of Derek’s tightly clenched hole, white strands connecting the three of them whenever Scott reared back for another go. 

Derek howled, rearing up on the slippery poles, but more to drive Stiles’s spurting cock deep as it could go. The thickness of Stilinski’s tree-trunk wood absolutely brutalized the werewolf’s prostate, a huge splash of were-milk firing out of Derek’s turgid cockteat at the same time, spurting from him just as the human emptied himself inside the dairy-were.

For all that Stiles had been satisfied, however, it was the other three that had yet to be sated. He bit back a groan as his friend continued to thrust, his cock weakly spasming one last time.

The wave of hot semen splashing over his cock caused Scott to jerk, his toes curling. Whether it was purely the added sensation or - if he were honest - the addition of his best friend’s cum as lube, he found himself making jagged, ragged, off-beat thrusts as his whole body clenched. A new rhythm between himself and the pretty-faced were riding his ass was established, one that mostly consisted of his stray trying to beat his hole into submission with his dick.

Isaac grunted, erupting suddenly and without warning. It didn’t slow down any of his jack-rabbity thrusts so much as it just kept him pumping in and out of Scott with ruthless efficiency. 

In the intensity of his orgasm, the big, lanky were fell back for a second, long enough that his shooting dick popped out of his master’s tight ass. Stud-milk arced out of the reddened tip, lashed across the teen’s lithe, tanned back: spattering high up on his shoulders, leaving a heavy, white streak down his spine. Another shot dappled Scott's pale, thrusting buttocks, before Isaac rallied and quickly reinserted himself, eager to dump the rest of his substantial load in the human’s depths.

Scott’s insides twisted at the sudden intrusion, an electric spike sending pleasure straight to his brain and having him seeing stars, but he still welcomed his stray’s return. 

Then the slender bulge of his knot, usually barely noticeable, popped in.

“Fu-uck! Fuck!” Scott cried, the sudden distension of his guts just enough to make his eyes go wide, his jaw go slack as orgasm ripped through him. 

His release was not gentle. Between his prostate getting pounded and the huge, powerful were-hole squeezing the life out of his and his best friend’s dick, the guy felt like he was being torn apart from the inside-out. Every time Derek moved it felt like he was about to snap off inside him. Every time Scott tried to pull out he speared himself uselessly on his own were’s perfect, steel rod of a cock. He clawed at Derek’s bubble-butt for support, some animal part of him knowing only the urge to spill his seed as deep in the were-cunt as he could get. 

Hale was all too happy to oblige him, his mask finally slipping to reveal the wild, lusty beast underneath. His grin was wide, toothy, and each brutal slam of the narrow-waisted teen against his powerful glutes only seemed to feed the fire burning in his eyes. 

He arched his back, ignoring Stiles’s high-pitched squeal when it let Scott’s dick grind that much harder against him, sink that much further, along his buddy’s spitting cock. The were could feel his owner’s fingers fluttering at him, pleading for him to move, to let him pull out, but that was out of the question: the humans, their seed, were his. End of story. 

A growl, low, rumbling, emanated from the fanged wolf, a noise that - usually beyond human ken - Scott still felt in his gut. He choked back a cry, fighting the primordial call of the supernatural creature beneath him. 

For all his human frailty, McCall’s willpower was without peer.

The tall, desperate were inside him, unfortunately, was not so steadfast; dizzy from climax, he gripped Scott’s tight little waist while he got his legs under him, jabbing straight down with his iron prick in a way that had the teen actually feel his own fat cockhead strike Stiles’s swollen glans, the two of them wedged together by force in Derek’s core. 

His own cum spilled out in force at that, filling Derek’s were-cunt and coating Stiles’s meaty slab the same way his friend’s had covered his earlier. He could feel Derek’s body responding, could feel the dairy-were jolt several times as his hefty udder bounced, spraying milk across both Stiles and himself. It struck his pecs, it struck Stiles’s chin, the werewolf’s rock-hard, rigid cock-teat even launching white strands up past his owner’s head. 

Derek’s face was the picture of glory, reveling in the hands clawing at his thighs, at his back; at Stiles fucking upwards with his obscene, oversized cock, punishing thrusts meant to end the werewolf’s reign; at the feel of Scott’s balls slapping against his hole, at the even more satisfying feel of McCall’s thick dick being hammered into him by the tall, blond were above. Even if he didn’t have all three of them inside him, it was as though each of them were still reverberating through his hole. 

Caught between the two wolves, Scott was not doing nearly so well. The stray was cumming inside him a second time, his unknown breed apparently being some sort of fucking super-producer when it came to were-milk. Luckily for Scott, his knot did little to stop it from sliding out and coating his thighs, the were’s dangling nuts as they swung. 

Even Isaac needed a breather after that, however. He rammed himself in to the hilt, like he was burying fucking Excaliber, and collapsed forward. Scott cried out as it ground his stray’s length against his prostate, the poor teen surrounded by his werewolf’s teeth, his claws, his arms all about him. All he had for purchase was Derek’s greedy, hungry hole, the feel of that incredible body beneath his hands. 

Using the Hale were as a guide, pinned between two extraordinary bodies, Scott ground to a halt. His body convulsed, the final dregs of his orgasm milked from him by force. He managed to last upright for another long minute, Isaac on his back, were-seed churning inside him; his own dick still inside Derek, lying atop his best friend’s cock and soaked in their climax. 

It was the minute shifts of the werewolves’ hips that finally did him in: a little wiggle, one inside, one outside, and he was done. The black-haired teen’s resolve - however great - gave out; he fell onto Derek’s broad, strong back, his nose filling with the scent of the were’s sweat-slick skin. 

For a moment, his vision nearly faded completely. There was only the press of Isaac above him, the pulse of Isaac’s erection buried in his guts, and then Derek’s hot, dominating body underneath. His hands traced the Hale were’s chest from behind, running up the werewolf’s sweaty sides, cupping his great big pecs, before sliding down again. Utterly entranced, even with the sticky feel of the were-milk Derek’s cock-teat had shot across himself and Stiles. Human though he was, not even Scott could resist opening his mouth and - eyes blind - sink his pointy little canines into the werewolf’s back. 

The dairy-were didn’t even grunt. He just inhaled deeply, through his nose, as he appraised the other three of them.

He was the only one left in the room with any strength: the dairy-were supporting the weight of both Scott and Isaac on his back while Stiles shuddered beneath him. He didn’t bother to move, instead simply waited there on all fours for the teens inside him, above him, to recover from their climax. The look on his face was inscrutable. The glint in his eyes, however, was not. 

“Fuck, Scott,” Stiles panted, tremors running through his legs each time his dick twitched. Each time he felt his friend slide against him, felt them rub against each other in his were’s warm, velvet grip. He gulped for air, not caring about the warm were-milk Derek had spilled all over his chest. He ignored the way his were was staring down at him. “That was insane. That was fucking insane.”

Still impaled, with a werewolf’s hands straying up and down his chest, squeezing his narrow waist, Scott fumbled about for something to say. It was hard to think past the feel of his friend’s thick, weighty dick shuddering against his. 

“Ahh,” he hummed, not quite sure if he remembered how to talk. Between the size of the load he’d blown in the werewolf - much less the one Isaac had shot inside him - he wasn’t quite sure he had enough brainpower left to function. 

“We were gonna - we were gonna just do the thigh thing man, and then suddenly he was on me and the- and then I was _inside_ him,” Stiles babbled, looking down to where he could feel himself buried inside the were, even if all he saw was Derek’s fat cock-teat and udder resting on his navel. His hands waved as he talked. “A--A-And wow! And then you were there with me, inside him and oh. Oh boy.” Stiles wiped the sweat off his face. “No idea that it could be that good.”

Easing himself upwards on Derek’s powerful glutes, Scott bit back a wince as the shift moved both himself inside the Hale were and the shaft of the stray werewolf hilted inside him. After that intense fuck it felt like he was trying to shake cobwebs from his head. 

Eventually his brain and body started to sync up. He licked his lips. “A lot better than trading blowjobs, man.” 

An understatement to say the least. Choking on his friend’s briny spunk hadn’t been much of a highlight. This… this had been amazing. Even if he had to figure out how he could get his were’s knot out of his butthole without Stiles noticing. 

“Did uh…” A yawn interrupted Stiles. A deep yawn. One long enough to make his head fall back and close his eyes. “Did Isaac cum in him too?” he asked, smacking his lips. He reached down, rather unceremoniously, to pull his softening, but still mighty, horse-sized cock from the werewolf’s ass. Scott flinched, the action sending a spike straight to his brain. 

Derek, for his part, just glanced downwards, his mouth curling slightly. His cunt tensed, closing about the slower-to-fade rod still spearing him, the breathless teen still leaning on him for support. He rocked his ass back slightly, wiggling his butt in a bit of encouragement. 

“No,” Scott said after a long minute, his insides clenching about the bone buried inside him. He closed his eyes, flinching as Isaac shifted. Steadying his breath, he continued, “No, he uh… he slipped out.”

“Damn.” Arm thrown over his face, Stilinski absently traced his fingers through the pool of Hale were-milk soaking his chest. He grunted, dropping the hand to his side. “You cool with trying again?”

Huffing, another - final - spasm rocking his body, Scott looked from the big, older were he was about to slip out of, to the younger stray whose slender knot was about to pop out of his hole. Scott shuddered his body practically singing, but his voice wry. “I think I need a break first.”

“Hah!” Stiles laughed, in sympathy more than anything else. Half-asleep as he was, pinned beneath his big were, he couldn’t see his friend’s face twist as his stray made a few sudden, sharp, vigorous thrusts, nor his own were’s face light up at the feel of Scott being forced deeper into him. “So like, tomorrow, though? My dad will be gone again.”

“To-Tomorrow,” Scott stammered, distracted by the growing resurgence in Isaac’s thrusts. Bracing himself on Derek’s back, the brown-eyed teen reached back to get one hand pressed against the younger werewolf’s taut abs. It did little to slow him, just changing the angle of his thrusts more than anything. Scott pushed more forcefully, biting back a whimper when the stray’s long, glistening cock finally slipped out of him. His own dick - still inside the Hale were - spasmed weakly, his fresh-worked hole clenching at the loss. 

He breathed a sigh of relief, sending a silent prayer of thanks that his stray’s knot was barely noticeable, unlike the fist-sized monster on that fiery thing he’d seen ramming Peter Hale earlier. Hell, even Peter Hale’s had been intimidating. 

His were’s, however, was perfect. Scott twisted at the waist, pulling his languid, lanky werewolf up for an open-mouthed kiss. 

It didn’t take much for him to feel Isaac stir, have the stray start trying to devour him all over again. Scott welcomed it all, the fangs, the occasional drag of a claw, even the tentative tap of Isaac’s fingertips against his too-sensitive hole. He let the were nip down his neck, down to his pecs, encouraging him to take teeth to his nipples when the teen stilled. 

Derek was staring at him. Eyes full of that uncanny intelligence common to all weres. 

Scott flushed, half-expecting the hulking, alpha-looking were to growl or even speak or do _anything_ , but to his shock the Hale simply turned and pressed his face between his legs. 

Eyes boggling, the teen let himself be pushed back, onto his side, as the black-haired werewolf passed over his sac, forcing his legs to spread. His tongue snaked out as he passed over Scott’s perineum, gliding over the folded skin to sink square into his wet, leaking hole. The guy jerked, but the position was too awkward to do anything about it and - if he were honest - the tongue tracing the puckered flesh around his asshole felt like a balm. He relaxed into it, sighing as Derek wrapped two firm hands about his thighs. 

Of course, Isaac was not about to let another were dip into his favorite meal without a fight. The werewolf dropped close. Barked a warning. 

“Isaac!” Scott snapped, absolutely not willing to have them bare fang so close to his nuts. 

Schooling himself at the admonition, the younger were slunk downward, but only for a second. His eyes met Derek’s, some unspoken communication passing between them. Then he placed his fingers on Scott’s cheeks. It was the only warning the human got before a second tongue pushed in to replace the first, the two werewolves whuffling softly as they jostled for space. 

Dick rapidly re-hardening, Scott was hard-pressed to keep silent. Every time Isaac pushed in, Derek would retreat to lap at Scott’s balls. Whenever the stray pulled back to nip at the human’s pale cheeks , adjust his grip on those mounds, Derek would push back in for another taste of the were-milk Isaac had dumped inside him. 

The back and forth between them was making him pant. He wrapped one hand about his cock, tugging quietly, habitually careful of any noise. 

It was his labored breathing that gave him away, however. Stiles stirred, lifting his arm just enough to peek one eye down at where Derek’s full, tanned ass lay on the bed. He gripped it, fumbling his hand up his werewolf’s back far enough that he could imagine what position Derek was in with regards to his friend. This was just as Isaac pulled back, letting Derek once again push forward to eat at Scott’s hole. 

Stiles jerked in surprise, only seeing Scott with one leg over Derek’s head out of the corner of one eye. “Is he licking your ass now too?”

Still stroking, Scott struggled for a reply. “Yeah,” he choked, fighting to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head. 

“Great. Just my luck that we try to get him a stud and all we do is teach him Isaac’s bad habits.” 

With two tongues fighting to lap at his sore, cum-dripping hole, Scott didn’t trust his voice not to quaver if he said anything. He squeezed out something noncommittal in reply, but it didn’t matter. A low snore was all he got in response.

Just as well, Scott thought to himself, as his pretty-faced werewolf abandoned the fight for his asshole and crept upwards to make a now-familiar jab of his jutting cock at the human’s cheeks. Scott chuckled, tired himself, but willing to humor his were. He sat up, easing his weight back into Isaac’s thighs as the stray - surprisingly - hooked his arms under Scott’s legs as well. 

“Wh-,” Scott began, but the return of Derek’s face to his hole - his nose bumping the teen’s plump _huevos_ \- made it clear they’d reached an arrangement. One both could be happy with.

As far as he could tell, it mostly seemed to involve Derek’s mouth going from the spade-like tip of Isaac’s glans to the puckered flesh of Scott’s hole and back again, his tongue laving across both teens without care or discernment. Scott placed a hand on Derek’s head, more for needing to distract from the warm ball of pleasure he was stirring than anything else.

It was a sign his were, however, was too familiar with. His master’s guard was down. 

Again.

Isaac, ever-ready, pulled the human back high enough that he could once more arrow his dick into Scott’s hole, not caring that he had to force Derek’s tongue out of the way in the process. Not caring about the way his human clawed at him for support either, simply squaring his jaw, grimacing from the pain but reveling from the reward of having his length planted in the black-haired teen’s tight body once again. 

It wasn’t the angle he had when taking Scott from behind like before, but he didn’t care. He was long enough that it was still more than worth it, and Derek’s face, his groping hands still going wherever they wanted on Scott’s dick was enough to keep his master compliant. 

It was also enough to spark a fire in the younger werewolf’s belly. 

Isaac growled, low, possessive, through gritted teeth, gliding his cock in and out of his master’s stretched, slick asshole in harder, longer strokes. 

Scott stared over his shoulder at his were’s delicate face, his mouth hanging open in ecstasy. Derek soaked in the sight of a were mounting human, noticing that the stray had switched to shorter, shallower strokes. Not giving the human his full length, his dangling balls swinging, his hips going back far enough to almost pull the head out completely, but not quite giving Scott the deep stroke. 

The older, Argent-trained wolf could smell that he was getting close, as easily as he could read the approaching limit in the human’s brown, glazed eyes. 

Waiting for Isaac’s next thrust, Derek sprang that long rod free, drawing a breath of relief from Scott and something close to a yip from the dishwater-blond, blue-eyed were. For Scott, it was the removal of Isaac’s fencepost length; for Isaac, it was the shock of going from his master’s gooey, gripping insides and into the older werewolf’s hot, masterful mouth.

The stray’s eyes widened as he couldn’t see, but could _feel_ Derek inch further down his lengthy, pale shaft. Hale’s lips were flush, wide, and he made gurgling sounds in his throat. With a low groan, Isaac felt himself bottom out in the older werewolf as he succeeded in deep throating the entire, throbbing erection. His lips were buried at the base, the stray’s curly pubic hair tickling the bigger were's sculpted nose. Isaac's heavy, low hanging balls churned, bouncing as he tensed. 

The younger were was too aroused. Derek steadied the three of them by gripping Isaac’s full ass and slid his head back, dragging that sensitive head slowly up the tight channel of his throat. Soon just the fat glans was the only thing left in the handsome werewolf’s mouth.

He rolled his tongue underneath it. That was all it took. 

Clutching at Scott, claws out, Isaac snarled, gasping, trying to fuck back into Scott, into Derek’s throat, into anything. His shaky thrusts made his dick slip out, a huge shot of were-milk rocketing out and lashing across Derek’s face, striping his cheek and ear. The next heavy shot went right into the werewolf’s mouth, fully coating his tongue in breeder-milk. The Hale were leaned up as best he could to trap the shooting cockhead in his sealed lips, letting the younger were spray over his tongue. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed mouthfuls of the hot, copious stuff. 

Scott was relieved. He didn’t think he could have gone another round with Isaac letting go inside him. Low-quality milk though it might be, the dark blond were produced a _lot_ of it. 

He stared down at the sight of Derek’s strong, masculine face bobbing up and down on his stray’s pretty length, his own cock striking the werewolf’s cheek from time to time, leaving spots of wetness on his skin. Part of him idly wondered what it would be like to have the older were take both of them in his mouth at the same time, the thought growing in appeal while he waited for the two to finish. 

Unfortunately, Isaac’s hard dick showed no signs of flagging, and Derek was all too happy to help it along. He guided the reddened glans back to Scott’s anus, helpfully coating both with saliva along the way. Scott whined as he felt his stray press upwards once again, feeling that long spear pierce what resistance he could muster with relative ease. One particular thrust actually had the head dislodging Derek’s tongue from Scott’s asshole, pushing past that outer ring to sheath itself in there instead. 

The Hale were, for his part, didn’t seem to mind, being just as happy to press his tongue into a hole with an embedded shaft as he was to lap at one without it. 

“Guys,” the human whimpered, “Come on, don’t -!” 

It was too late. Isaac’s cock slid upwards, readily sinking almost halfway in before it met any resistance, and spilling were-seed the whole time. Spasms wracked Scott’s body, his gut, the whole of his being clenching about that spurting shaft inside him even as Derek’s nose, his tongue, pressed greedily against his hole. He grabbed for the werewolf’s hair, managing to get a grip and at least pull Derek’s face out from his asshole, but that just left his fat, full-bodied cock vulnerable instead. The Hale were was on it in a flash, Scott’s dickhead meeting the back of Derek’s throat before he’d even realized the black-haired wolf’s new target. 

Something close to a grunted squeal slipped from his gritted teeth as the dairy-were deep-throated him, the poor guy caught between his stray’s long, hard, spurting pole and Derek’s hot, skilled mouth on his cock. No matter how he writhed, the expert tongue running up and down his length was always there to sap his strength, leave him open to Isaac’s ever-greey thrusts. 

Were-arousal was a finicky thing. Hard to awaken, impossible to stop. Both of them were relentless, utterly without mercy in their hunger to wring yet another orgasm out from the human teen. 

There wasn’t much more to give. As much as he wanted that tight, lurking coil inside him to snap, Scott wasn’t sure he had it in him. “You guys! Suck off Stiles!” he cried, his voice barely audible for fear of waking his friend, but more than willing to sacrifice him to the lusty weres.

They ignored his plea, Derek looking up at him with a devilish gleam in his hazel eyes as he pushed his nose into the black-haired teen’s neatly-trimmed pubes. Scott gasped, Isaac driving himself deep and holding for a moment so he could nip at his neck. Neither of them seemed to care about McCall’s exhausted state; if anything, they seemed to revel in lapping the sweat from his chin, from his pecs, from his belly - from wherever they could reach before returning to sucking or fucking as hard as much as human frailty could handle..

Isaac was the first to break, suddenly rabbiting his thrusts, tipping backwards as he ground himself into his master’s warm, gooey, cum-soaked guts. Scott wasn’t long after, burying himself to the hilt in Derek’s throat; clutching his hands, his thighs tightly enough about Derek’s head that even with his great strength, the Hale were couldn’t have pulled himself off the thick rod spurting inside him. 

Swallowing readily, Derek waited patiently for Scott to finish twitching, finish spasming long enough that he could relax his hold. Once he was free, he sat back, his ass on his heels, his cheeks doing nothing to hide his bruised, soaked hole. Healed, but still dark, still clearly worked over. 

Much like the human’s would be, part of Derek knew. He leaned forward, spreading Scott’s legs to peer once more at Isaac’s pale cock as it sprang free from the teenager’s asshole. 

Unlike the Hale were, Scott had not been trained to retain the seed, did not have the biological drive to keep it inside him. His stray’s were-milk sluiced out along with his long, softening penis, strands of it dangling from the human’s cheeks, smeared across his hole, glinting in the light on Isaac’s dick. 

Derek was only all too happy to clean up the mess he’d helped make, practically devouring every drop of were-milk he could get his mouth on, whether it was off Isaac’s cock - fresh from Scott’s ass - or straight from Scott’s hole itself. It was a full repeat of the first experience, only this time Scott was twice as tired, had shot twice the loads, and his asshole was so sensitive that even the swipe of the werewolf’s scruffy chin against it when he moved upwards and dug into the human’s balls was too much. 

“Okay,” Scott whispered, struggling to push the two weres away. “Okay that’s… that’s enough!” 

Dick twitching, keenly aware of the wet, worked hole between his cheeks, the human needed a second to get his body under control. He cast a frantic glance towards Stiles, praying that his friend hadn’t seen him getting worked over by two _weres_ of all things.

He was in luck. Stiles Stilinkski was still konked out, cum drying on his stomach and his monstrous, meaty penis draped across his thigh. “Mm, Lydia,” he cooed sleepily, his dick twitching obscenely. 

Earlier Scott’d thought to himself that it was almost comical that his skinny, dweeby friend was nearly as big as a Hale were, but after getting it twice from Isaac he was just glad it was an uncommon trait. Not everyone had a hole like Derek Hale.

The werewolf in question pursued him off the bed, grabbing his hips to hold him in place while he did one last pass over McCall’s gorgeous nuts, his weakened - but still chubby - shaft, even going so far as to run his tongue up to the teen’s abs, mouth at his belly-button. 

It made it hard to get dressed, but eventually Scott was able to find his underwear and slip it on between werewolf attacks. He glanced at the Hale were, who had turned his attention to the languid stray seated on the edge of the bed. For once his were was remarkably at ease, seemingly happy to let the older wolf suck on his low-hanging nuts or swirl his tongue around in Isaac’s pink foreskin. 

Scott shook himself, after a few minutes of watching. 

“You gonna clean him up too?” he asked, jerking his chin at Stiles as he pulled on his shorts. The movement nearly left him winded, his mind keenly aware of his now-empty asshole. 

Derek shrugged. Then, pushing off of Isaac’s cock, he came in for a deep, open-mouthed kiss, the dairy-were’s powerful arms crushing Scott to his breast. Isaac stirred behind him, pushing forward with a half-formed growl, only to have the Hale bitch surprise them both by pulling the stray in and planting the same firm, demanding kiss on his mouth as well.

Sandwiched partway between the two wolves, Scott nearly lost himself in the feel of their bodies, their hard chests and strong arms, against his bare skin. It was only the rising heat, the stirring of their dicks that gave him back his sanity; he pulled away, dragging Isaac with him in the process. “We’re going,” he ordered, moving his stray to where he could get him dressed. It was a frustrating process at the best of times, with a proud, naked werewolf that loved to “accidentally” plop his lengthy shaft, his heavy balls against his alpha’s face every chance he got. Just getting one of Scott’s old jockstraps back up his long, pale legs had that angry red tip tapping against the brown-eyed teen’s lips several times.

Only some of them were Isaac’s fault. None of them were accidental. 

Derek, waiting on his hands and knees on the edge of the bed, watched with intense interest as Scott tried to tuck a passively-resistant Isaac into the jock’s pouch: the stray’s long, pale, uncut rod springing free twice before Scott just gave up and slid the were’s basketball shorts over the whole thing. 

Frowning, Isaac wordlessly pushed the waistband down to expose his cock’s beautiful tip. Then he waited, looking at his master expectantly. 

Scott huffed.

“You’re impossible.” Still, he bent to give the tip a warm, wet swirl, followed by a noisy _pop_. “Happy now?” he asked, standing up. 

Isaac, head still hanging to be closer in eye level to Scott, grinned, tucking himself away. Scott glanced about the room, flushing when he realized Derek was still staring with those too-knowing eyes. That inscrutable face.

The human flushed. “Don’t say anything, ‘kay?” 

Derek blinked, surprised, but rallied quickly, rising to his full height. Though he wasn’t as tall as Isaac, he was as broad as the two of them but together, and even with milk-swollen pecs and his huge ‘udder’, he was imposing. Scott couldn’t help but make a noise that was half-laugh, half-scoff.

“God, this guy would be bad enough if he could walk around with his dick out all the time,” Scott murmured, jerking his chin over his shoulder at his stray. He stepped into the Hale were’s space, one hand tugging at his prodigious cock while the other cupped that amazing ass. “I don’t get why Stiles lets you just hang out fucking naked.” 

Smirking, Derek once again swept Scott into a deep, passionate kiss. Isaac wasted no time in pressing in behind him, his long fingers going straight to plumbing the depths of Derek’s full, firm cheeks while grinding the length of his hard shaft against Scott’s ass. 

Yet again, Scott found himself sandwiched between two revved-up weres with only his fragile human stamina on his side. Fortunately it was Derek who broke away first, the Hale were stepping back with yet another proud display of his assets for the two teens. Even Isaac, who had spent half the time focused on Scott, seemed to have a new appreciation for the older were’s incredible body. His guarded blue eyes flickered with a hunger that had the dairy-were buzzing with pride. 

Scott must have sensed it too, because after glancing at his now very compliant stray, he looked to the Hale werewolf with one side of his mouth crooked upwards. “See you tomorrow, Derek.” 

The two of them drank in the sight of the dairy-were’s powerful body one last time before they headed out, Scott moving much slower than Isaac due to the sharp hitch in his stride. The older werewolf listened for the front door to slam, hearing Scott mutter, “Do you think Stiles would let us borrow Derek for the night?” to Isaac as they left the front porch. 

Derek stood there for a moment, thinking, before he turned to the teen on the bed. There was still more clean-up to do, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in AlwaysBottomDerek's AU, Derek's basically looking to get pregnant. not gonna lie, that's awesome and hot but I don't think I got it in me to write full omegaverse kinda stuff. Also I I wanted to continue his Sheriff Stilinski/Derek stuff because that is a surprisingly sweet and fun ship to sail on but it was getting super long already.


	3. Epilogue: Evolution of a Were

Scott winced - not for the first time - as he ran, although he refused to slow before he crested the last hill before home. He couldn’t tell if it was the heat of the late summer air, the sweat on his body, or something else, but his leg, the one where Derek had scratched him, burned. The bitemarks Isaac had left on his neck, on his back, burned. Shallow though they were, everything felt red and irritated right now. 

Not that the pain had stopped him from going for a run. In the hours since the afternoon with Derek and Isaac he’d felt a nervous energy welling up inside him. 

He didn't know what to do with it, moving restlessly about the house until it had cooled enough for an evening run. Having to practically drag Isaac off the couch was a sign of how it would go, however; for once, he was the one leading the way. That werewolf stamina didn’t seem to hold up in light of getting sucked off four more times after fucking Scott that afternoon. 

His stray, panting, came to a halt beside him. He, too, turned to take in the view for a moment, sweat dripping down the old, gray t-shirt Scott had given him. The werewolf lifted the hem, using it to wipe his forehead, flashing some abs in the process. For all that he'd seen them almost every day for the past few months, it was still enough to catch and hold his master's eye. The curly-haired were glanced down, in time to catch the direction of Scott's gaze.

Wan though he might look on the outside, that streak of naughtiness that seemingly defined his were still shone through. Isaac flipped up one leg of the loose running shorts Scott had forced him into, wagging his long, pale penis at him. 

Scott chuckled, low and throat. “Isaac, buddy,” he cooed, pressing close to the curly-haired stray despite the heat. The fabric of their running shorts did less than nothing to keep their lengths from touching. “You gotta wait ‘til we’re home, pal!” 

But Isaac wasn’t interested in waiting. He leaned down, folding as much of Scott into his long frame as he could before pressing their mouths together: hungry, hot, and seeking.

In fairness, Scott wasn’t sure he was interested in waiting either. He didn’t know if it was the were-milk dumped in his ass, or a cumulative effect of sucking one load after another out of the lanky stray all night, but even just the sight of the werewolf’s floppy, half-hard dick was enough to get him going again. The human let Isaac deepen the kiss, let his hands paw wherever they wanted, until he finally had to break it off when he just shoved them down the back of Scott’s shorts. 

“I let you have one crack at my ass and you’re acting like it’s yours for the taking huh?” he teased, chuckling. It didn’t seem to deter his werewolf one whit, Isaac’s steely blue eyes fixated on his own. His long fingers slipped up the loose legs of Scott's shorts to squeeze his cheeks.

Scott swallowed. “You really wanna fuck me that badly?” 

His were didn’t even bother with showing agreement. At this point, it went without say. 

The human glanced about, noting the sun had already passed the horizon. The hilltop they were on had a bench beside the running trail, and a single light that just started flickering on. In the distance, Beacon Hills was a string of pretty colored lights. 

He went to the bench and kneeled on the wooden slats, casting an inviting smirk at the pale stray, whose boner was now completely stiff and standing proud. 

Scott waggled his eyebrows. His were had his shorts off in a second, burying his face between those pert, tight, plump little cheeks for a couple licks before he stood, eager and erect, to mount his master once again. 

Just as Isaac readied himself to enter, however, his ears pricked in warning. That split second was all he got before a dark, red-eyed creature barreled from the woods, tackling Scott and rolling across the clearing with the human in its maw. Isaac shrieked, claws bared, and leaped upon its back, rending every ounce of flesh he could get. That got it off his master, though the single hand it used to grip and lift him by the throat when it turned to face him made it clear it was just as one-sided a fight. 

Coming back to his senses after getting rolled across the glade like that, Scott had enough presence of mind that he recognized the thing: Peter fucking Hale, the station’s batshit alpha.

Somehow he must have got out. More importantly, however, he was threatening _his_ pretty stray. 

Something guttural rose in him, something deep and primal and full of rage. Before his conscious mind even registered it, his fist was landing a blow that sent the savage werewolf stumbling back. 

Peter dropped like a stone. Whether it was a glass jaw, or adrenaline or something more, Scott didn’t know and didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was Isaac. 

Ignoring the sharp pain in his side where the thing had first slammed into him, Scott shouldered his coughing stray and dashed for home. Whatever strength he’d used to get the blood-raged alpha off him, he was not about to stick around for another go. And he absolutely was not about to stick around for its handler or whoever else to show up. 

Home wasn’t that far away. They could make it. 

In the clearing, Peter finally managed to regain his feet, his face a bloody snarl. He made to after the little snots, but stopped when his ears picked up the sound of footsteps approaching. He quickly wiped the blood from his healed lips, licked it off his hands. 

Just in time for Deputy Parrish to enter the clearing. 

“Peter? Peter!” he snapped, hustling towards the naked were. “Damnit Peter!” 

Parrish looked about the scene, hands on his hips, before he kicked at the discarded shorts that had gotten left behind. “Did you chase them off again?” he demanded. Peter looked away, but not before he could wipe the smug look from his face. The officer swore. 

“Here I was, thinking I could get a little action from one of those were-sluts that’s always hanging around out here.” With that Stilinski kid snooping around the station’s cameras looking for some sort of fiendish supernatural boogeyman, he wasn’t about to risk getting caught with his pants down with his dick in the Argent-raised werewolf’s throat. Using him to sniff out fellow perverts who liked to take their weres out on “walks” through the Beacon Hills Preserve, however… 

“Ah-ah!” he snapped again, his voice stopping the naked werewolf in his tracks. Peter didn’t bother to turn anything more than his head back to the deputy, his bare, muscular backside outlined by the lamplight. “Where do you think you’re going? I said I was looking to fuck someone.”

Deputy Parrish, almost as muscular - if only “human” - stalked closer, his tight officer’s pants leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. “Did you chase them off so you could have me to yourself?” he taunted. That earned him a snarl, and a snap of the Hale-were’s fangs when his fingers stroked his cheek. Parrish just laughed. 

“I’m touched.” His voice was honey, as sweet as his pretty face. The look in his eyes was cold and unforgiving - enough to actually make Peter’s dick stir. “Look, having a cum-dump on hand was one of the few perks of this low-pay job that was actually worth it.” He directed Peter forcibly to the nearby bench, throwing him against it in a way very reminiscent to the security feed Stilinski’s kid had tried to show him. Peter’s fat, jock ass jiggled as he struck it, the alpha were swallowing a growl… and his excitement. 

Opening his shirt to show off an unbelievable set of abs, Parrish continued, unzipping his pants too. “You can take the edge off now, or you can get it twice as hard at the station. Your choice.”

Feigning hesitation, the Hale were eventually lowered his head, raising his hips at the same time. Presenting a hole that was the same as any other Hale’s - hungry, greedy, and desperate for cock. 

Some Hales were just better at hiding it.

“Good boy.” Parrish _thwacked_ himself against the werewolf’s hole, spitting just once, though with exceptional aim, pausing only once to take in the hilltop view before he entered. “Huh,” he wondered. “Full moon tonight.” Maybe that was why his mind was feeling so hazy.

Peter grunted as the deputy forced himself inside him, his face only momentarily slackening in pleasure before he rallied, hardening. In more ways than one.

What Parrish didn’t know - what the Argents didn’t know - was that a mile away, a black-haired teen hauled his blond were into his secluded drive, pausing to lift his shirt in the moonlight and revealing the frightening, bloodied bite of an alpha Hale were.

\--------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured this was a way of reconciling Scott getting the Bite but still being a part of this fun AU.  
> just fun to think about!

**Author's Note:**

> God damn it but every time AlwaysBottomDerek writes Peter being all Alpha I just need to see him taken down and used!
> 
> I know overall this is a bit lighter fare than some of the darker stuff than the usual AlwaysBottomDerek fans like to see Derek get into, but I figured this could be the part where he gets a bit of a reprieve from things. I am also just head over heels in love with this supernatural, magic-heavy, fun and wacky AU! Such a cool idea. 
> 
> Let me know if I should be writing any more MoHK AU-AU or other TW stuff, this fandom is super fun!


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